The literary life and correspondence of the Countess of Blessington

V /y

l

LIBRARY

OF THK

UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA.

Class

THE

LITERARY LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE

01' THE

COUITESS OF BLESSIIGTOI.

R. R. MADDEN, M.R.I. A.,

AUTHOR OF

"TRAVELS ix THE EAST," "INFIRMITIES OF GENIUS," "THE MUSSULMAN,"
"SHRINES AND SEPULCHRES," "THE LIFE OF SAVONAROLA," ETC.

L'homme march e vers le tombeau, trainant apres lui, la chaine de ses
esperances trompees."

I N sT AV 'O, - V' O. I.'U M EjsV, ; I '

•• VOL, T.

NEW YORK:
II A R I1 E U & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS,

?. 2 9 & 331 PEARL S T R K E T,
F 1( A N K L I N S Q U A R K .

1 855.

DAS34

DEDICATION,

TO DOCTOR FREDERICK QUIN, M.D.

I DEDICATE, my dear Q,uin, this work to you — one of the
most intimate friends of that gifted lady who is the subject
of it, and whose entire confidence was possessed by you.
I inscribe it to you in remembrance of old and happy days,
of kind friends, and of many intimate acquaintances of our
early days in Italy— of people we have met in joyous scenes
and memorable places; some highly gifted, subsequently
greatly distinguished, most of whom have passed away since
you and I first became acquainted with the late Countess
of Blessington in Naples, upward of thirty years ago.

Perhaps these pages may recall passages in our young
days which, in the turmoil of the cares and struggles of
advanced years, it may be a sort of recreation to our wearied
minds and jaded energies to have presented to us again in
a life-like form.

In treading on this old Italian ground once more, and that
portion of it especially best known to us — a fragment of
some bright star dropped from heaven :

"That, like a precious gem, Parthenope
Smiles as of yore — the syren of the sea" — *

* The Heliotrope, or the Pilgrim in Italy, a Poem, by Dr. W. Beattie.

224239

1V DEDICATION.

wo may have many graves to pass, and memories, not only
of dear friends, but of early hopes, to make us thoughtful.

But I trust we shall have also some pleasing recollections
renewed by these Memoirs, and our old feelings of affection
ate regard revived by them.

I am, my dear Q,uin, faithfully yours,

R. R. MADDEN.
LONDON, >"ov. 1, 1854.

CONTENTS OF VOL. I.

INTRODUCTION.

T'AGB

Early Origin. — Pedigree .of the Sheehy Family. — Notice of maternal
Grandfather. — Career of Edmund Power. — Marriage of Marguerite
Power. — Captain Farmer's Death. — Coroner's Inquest and Verdict of
the Jury 1

CHAPTER I.

Notice of the Earl of Blessington. — His Origin ; early Career. — First and
second Marriage, &c , 38

CHAPTER II.

Departure of the Blessingtons from London on a Continental Tour, Sep
tember, 1822 63

CHAPTER III.
Byron and the Blessingtons at Genoa G9

CHAPTER IV.

The City and Bay of Naples. — The Blessingtons, and their Society in
Naples, June, 1822, to February, 182G 80

CHAPTER V.

Departure from Naples. — Sojourn in Rome, Florence, Milan, Venice, and
Genoa. — Return to Paris. — February, 182G, to June, 1829 99

CHAPTER VI.

Return to Paris in June, 1828. — Residence there. — Death of Lord Bless
ington. — Departure of Lady Blessington for England in November,
1830 11Q

CHAPTER VII.

Conversational Powers of distinguished Persons. — Scamore Place and
Gore House. — Literary Circles. — Rival Salons of Holland House and

V1 CONTENTS.

Reunions at the Countess of Charleville's. — Residence of Lady Blcss
ington at Seamore Place from 1832 to 1836 ; and Gore House. Ken
sington Gore, from 1836. to April, 1S4'J . .

CHAPTER VIII.
The Break-up at < ion- House .16.")

CHAPTER IX.

Arrival of Lady Blcssington in Paris the middle of April. 1819. — Her
last Illness and Death on the 4th of June following. — Notice of her
Decease • 1*1

CHAPTER X.
Notice ol the Career. Literary Tastes, and Talents of .Lady Blcssington. 1!)~

CHAPTER XI.

Notice of the Writings of Lady Blessington. — Connection with the An
nuals. — Results of her Literary Pursuits 214

CHAPTER, XII.
Poetical Effusions addressed to Lady Blcssington by various Persons. . 251

CHAPTER, XIII.

Notice of Count Alfred D'Orsay. — His Origin. — Some Account of his
rarlv Life. — The Close of his Career, and Observations on his Talents,
and the Application of them '4(>'J

CHAPTLR XIV.
Preliminary Notice of the Correspondence of Lady Blessington 317

CHAPTER XV.
Sir William Gel! 3^J

CHAPTER XVI
Letters of Sir William (Jell to Lady Blessington . 1533

CHAPTER XVII.
Letters of Sir William Gell to Lady Blessington . . 330

CHAPTER XVIII.
Lrttcr* of Sir William Gell to Lady Blessington . . ;«;-.>

CONTENTS. yn

CHAPTER XIX.

t*A<JK

Sir William Drummond. — The Abbe Campbell , 335

CHAPTER XX.

Charles Reilly, Esq., Surgeon R. N. — Dr. Quin. — Sir Ferdinand R. E.
D. Acton. — Sir Frederick Faulkner. — The Duke de Laval Montmoren-
ci. — Miss Bathurst. — Piazzi. — Sir Augustus D'Este. — Captain Hesse.
— Captain Garth 396

CHAPTER XXI.
The Hon. Richard Keppel Craven, and the Margravine of Anspach .... -109

CHAPTER XXII.

Thomas James Matthias, Esq., F.R.S., F.S.A. — James Millingen. — Ed
ward Dodwell. — The Archbishop of Tarento 422

CHAPTER XXIII.
Count Matuschewitz. — Prince Schwartzenberg -13y

CHAPTER XXIV.
The Duke D'Ossuna -142

CHAPTER XXV.
Monsieur Eugene Sue. — Vicomte D'Arlincourt 44t>

CHAPTER XXVI.

Casimir Delavigne. — Alfred De Vigny. — Dwarkanauth Tajore. — Rich
ard Wcstmacott 458

CHAPTER XXVII.

Letter from John Auldjo, Esq., to Lady Blessington. — Dr. Polidori. —
Sir \V. Drummond's Odin . . . 46G

APPENDIX.

No. I.
Notice of Lord and Lady Canterbury, and of Mrs. Fairlie 475

No. II.
The Fate of the Sheehy.s in 1765 and 17fiG . .484

yjji CON TENT 6

No III

The Case of Bernard Wright, Editor of Edmund Power's Paper, the
Clonmel Ga/ette 500

No. IV
Certificate of .Marriage of Captain Fanner to Miss Marguerite Power. . . 513

No. V.
Notice of Captain Farmer's Letter in the Dublin Evening Packet 513

No. VI.

Proceedings on Inquest on the Body of Joseph Lonergan, shot by Ed
mund Power, and Bill of Indictment and Information against Power . 51 n

NO. ML

Prosecution of Edmund Power for Libel on Colonel Bagwell 520

No. VIII.

Certificate of Burial of Memlvers of the Blessinirton Family in St. Thom
as's Church, Dublin 523

No. IX.
Account of the Encumbrances on the Blessington Estates. ........... 524

No. X.
Rental of Blessington Estates, occ 528

No. XI.
Gore House 529

No. XII.
Count D'Orsay and the Prince Louis Napoleon 529

No. XIII.
Theatrical Tastes of Lord Blessington's Father 537

No. XIV.
Duel between Michael Power, Esq., and Captain Kettlewcll 537

No. XV.
Precis of Trial — M'Carthy versus Solomon Watson. Banker, of Clonmel . K>7

A MEMOIR

OF THE

LITERARY LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE

OF THE

COUNTESS OF BLESSIMTON,

INTRODUCTION. •

THE task of Biography is not comprised only in an attempt to
make a word — picture, and likeness of a person that can be
identified by its resemblance to the original ; to narrate a series
of striking passages in the life of an individual, whose career
it is intended to illustrate ; to record dates of remarkable events,
and particulars of important occurrences ; to give a faithful ac
count of signal failures and successes ; to delineate the fea
tures of the individual described, and to make deportment and
demeanor, manner of thought, and mode of expression, clearly
perceptible to those for whom we write or paint in words.
These are essential things to be done, but they are not all that
are essential in human life-history, which should be descriptive
not only of external appearance and accidental circumstances,
but of the interior being, dispositions, and actual peace of mind
of those of whom it treats. The great aim to be accomplished is
to make the truthful portraiture of the person we describe and
present to the public, stand out in a distinct shape and form, dis
tinguishable from all other surrounding objects, an instructive,
directive, suggestive, encouraging, or admonitory representation

VOL. I.— A

of a character and career, as the case may be. The legitimate
aim and end of that representation of a life will be gained if
the biographer, in accomplishing his task, makes the portraiture
of the individual described advantageous to the public, renews
old recollections agreeably as well as usefully ; looks to the
future in all his dealings with the past ; draws away attention
from the predominant materialism of the present time ; vio
lates no duty to the dead, of whom he treats ; no obligation to
the living, for whose benefit he is supposed to write ; if, with
out prejudice to truth or morals, he indulges his own feelings
of kindness, and tenderness of regard for the memory of those
who may have been his friends, and who have become the sub
jects of his inquiries and researches ; if he turn his theme to
the account of society at large, of literature also, and of its
living votaries ; if he places worth and genius in their true po
sition, and, when the occasion calls for it, if he manfully puts
forward his strength to pull down unworthy and ignoble pre
tensions, to unmask selfishness, to give all due honor to noble
deeds and generous aims and efforts ; if he sympathizes sin
cerely with struggling merit, and seeks earnestly for truth, and
speaks it boldly. And if he has to deal with the career of one
who has played an important part in public life or in fashiona
ble circles, and would attain the object I have referred to, he
will have to speak freely and fearlessly of the miseries and
vexations of a false position, however splendid that position
may be — miseries which may not be escaped from by any efforts
to keep them out of sight or hearing, either in the turmoil of
a fashionable life, in the tumult of its pleasures, or in the soli
tude of the dressing-room, the stillness of which is often more
intolerable than the desert-gloom, the desolation of Mar iSaba,
or the silence of La Trappe.

All this can be done without composing homilies on the
checkered life of man, or pouring forth lamentations on its vi
cissitudes, and pronouncing anathemas on the failings of indi
viduals, on whose conduct we may perhaps be wholly incompe
tent or unqualified to sit in judgment. There is often matter
for deep reflection, though requiring no comment from the biog-

INTRODUCTION. 3

rapher, to be found in a single fact seasonably noticed, in a
passage of a letter, a sentence in conversation, nay, even at
times in a gesture, indicative of weariness of mind in the midst
of pomp and pleasure, of sickness of spirit at the real aspect of so
ciety, wreathed though it may be with smiles and blandishments,
at the hollowness of its friendships, and the futility of one's
efforts to secure their happiness by them. I am much mistaken
if this work can be perused without exciting feelings of strong
conviction, that no advantageousness of external circumstances,
no amount of luxury, no entourage of wit and learning, no dis
tinction in fashionable or literary life, no absorbing pursuits of
authorship, or ephemeral enjoyments in exclusive circles of
haut ton, constitute happiness, or afford a substitute for it, on
which any reliance can be placed for the peace and quiet of
one's life.

An intimate acquaintance and uninterrupted friendship with
the late Countess of Blessington during a period of twenty-
seven years, and the advantage of possessing the entire confi
dence of that lady, are the circumstances which induced the
friends of Lady Blessington to commit to me the task of editing
an account of her Literary Life and Correspondence. To many
other persons familiarly acquainted with her ladyship, eminent
in different walks of literature and art, distinguished for abilities
and acquirements, and well known in the world of letters, this
task might have been confided with far more service to the ex
ecution of it in every literary point of view. But, in other re
spects, it was considered I might bring some advantages to this
undertaking, one of no ordinary difficulty, and requiring no or
dinary care and circumspection to surmount. The facilities I
refer to are those arising from peculiar opportunities enjoyed
of knowing Lady Blessington at an early period of that literary
career which it is intended to illustrate, and the antecedents of
that position in literature and the society of intellectual celeb
rities which she occupied in London.

The correspondence and other papers of Lady Blessington
that have been made use of in these volumes are connected by
a slender thread of biographical illustration, which may serve

4 INTRODUCTION.

to give some idea of the characters and position, and prominent
traits or peculiarities of those who arc addressed or referred to
in this correspondence, or by whom letters were written which
are noticed in it.

In doing this, I trust it will be found I am not unmindful of
the obligations I am under to truth and charity, as well as to
friendship — obligations to the living as well as to the dead ;
but, on the contrary, that I am very sensible that literature is
never more profaned than when, such claims being forgotten or
unfelt, statements or sentiments expressed in confidence to pri
vate persons that are calculated to hurt the feelings, to injure
the character, or prejudice the interests of individuals in any
rank of life, are wantonly, malevolently, or inconsiderately dis
closed.

Such sentiments seem to have been acted on by a late emi
nent statesman, and were well expressed in a codicil to his will,
wherein he bequeathed to Lord Mahon and E. Cardwell, Esq.,
M.P., " all the unpublished papers and documents of a public
or a private nature, whether in print or in manuscript, of which
he should, at the time of his decease, be possessed," &c. " Con
sidering that the collection of letters and papers referred to in
this codicil included the whole of his confidential correspond
ence for a period extending from the year 1817 to the time of
his decease, that during a considerable portion of that period he
was employed in the service of the crown, and that when not
so employed, he had taken an active part in parliamentary
business, it was highly probable that much of that correspond
ence would be interesting, and calculated to throw light upon
the conduct and character of public men, and upon the political
events of the times." This was done in the full assurance that
his trustees would so exercise the discretion given to them, that
no honorable confidence should be betrayed, no private feelings
be unnecessarily wounded, and no public interests injuriously
aflfected.

I think it is Sir Egerton Brydges who observes, " It is not
possible to love literature and to be uncharitable or unkind to
those who follow its pursuits." Nothing would certainly bo

INTRODUCTION. 5

Jmore uncharitable and unkind to literary people than to publish
what they may occasionally say in private of one another in the
way of raillery, banter, or persiflage, a ridicule-aiming turn, as
if such badinage on paper, and escapades of drollery, with a
dash of sarcasm, in conversation, were deliberate expressions
of opinion, and not the smartness of the sayings, but the sharp
ness of the sting in them, was to be taken into account in judg
ing of the motives of those who gave utterance to things spoken
in levity and not in malice.

There is no necessity, indeed, with such materials as I have
in my hands, to encumber my pages with any trivialities of this
kind, or the mere worthless tittle-tattle of epistolary conversation.

There is an abundance of thought-treasure in letters of peo
ple of exalted intellect in this collection ; ample beauties in
their accounts of scenery and passing events, and in their refer
ences to current literature — the works of art of the day, the
chances and changes of political life, the caprices of fashion of
the time, and the vicissitudes in the fortune of the celebrities
of all grades in a great city — to furnish matter well worthy of
selection and preservation ; matter that would perish if not thus
collected, and published in some such form as the present.

I have no sympathies with the tastes and pursuits of the
hangers-on of men of genius in literary society, who crawl into
the confidence of people of exalted intellect to turn their ac
quaintance with it to a profitable account ; to drag into notice
failings that may have hitherto escaped attention, or were only
suspected to exist, and to immortalize the errors of gifted indi
viduals, whose credulity has been taken advantage of with a
deliberate purpose of speculating on those failings that have
been diligently observed and drawn out.

Censure, it is said, is the tax which eminence of every kind
pays for distinction. The tendency of our times especially is
to pander to a morbid taste, that craves continually for signal
spectacles of failings and imperfections of persons in exalted
stations, for exhibitions of eminent people depreciated or de
famed. The readiness of men to minister to the prevailing
appetite for literary gossip, by violating the sanctity of private

(3 INTRODUCTION.

life, and often even the sacred ties of friendship, is not only to
be lamented, but the crime is to be denounced. I have given
expression to such opinions on those subjects at the onset of
my career in literature, and they have undergone no change
since the publication of them, upward of twenty years ago.*

We naturally desire to know every thing that concerns the
character or the general conduct of those whose productions
have entertained or instructed us, and- we gratify a laudable
curiosity when, for the purposes of good, we inquire into their
history, and seek to illustrate their writings by the general tenor
of their lives and actions. But when biography is made the
vehicle of private scandal, the means of promoting sordid inter
ests, and looks into every infirmity of human nature through a
magnifying medium, which makes small imperfections seem to
be large, and exaggerates large ones, it ceases to be a legitimate
inquiry into private character or conduct, and no infamy is
greater than the baseness of revealing faults that possibly had
never been discovered had no friendship been violated, no con
fidence abused by exaggerated representations of failings and
defects, which take away from the reputation of the living, or
dim the bright fame of the illustrious dead.

" Consider," says a learned German, " under how many as
pects greatness is scrutinized ; in how many categories curiosity
may be traced, from the highest grade of inquisitiveness down
to the most impertinent, concerning great men ! How the
world never wearies striving to represent to itself their whole
structure, conformation outward and inward. Blame not the
world for such curiosity about its great ones : this comes of the
world's old-established necessity to worship. Blame it not ;
pity it rather with a certain loving respect. Nevertheless, the
last stage of human perversion, it has been said, is when sym
pathy corrupts itself into envy, and the indestructible interest
we take in men's doings has become a joy over their faults and
misfortunes : this is the last and lowest stage — lower than this
we can not go."

" Lower than this we can not go !" says the German moralist.
* The Infirmities of Genius, &c., in 2 vols. 8vo, London, 1833.

INTRODUCTION. 7

But suppose we do more than exult in these failings and mis
fortunes ; that we sit in judgment on them, and judge not justly,
but in an unchristian manner — that is to say, with false weights
and measures of justice, having one scale and standard of judi
cial opinion for the strong and the unscrupulous in evil doing,
and another for the weak, and ill-directed, and unfortunately
circumstanced ; lower then I say men can go in the downward
path of hypocrisy, when those most deserving of pity have more
to fear from pretenders to virtue than from religion itself. At
the tribunal of public opinion, there are some failings for which
there must be an acquittal on every count of the indictment, or
a condemnation on all.

With respect to them, it is not for the world to make any in
quiries into the antecedents of error ; whether they included
the results of the tyranny, the profusion, the profligacy, and the
embarrassments of an unworthy father, the constant spectacle
of the griefs and wrongs of an injured mother, mournful scenes
of domestic strife, of violence and outrage even at the domestic
hearth, and riotous displays of ill-assorted revelry and carousing
in the same abode, every-day morning gloom and wrangling,
temporary shifts to meet inordinate expenses tending to event
ual ruin, meannesses to be witnessed to postpone an inevitable
catastrophe, and provide for the carousing of another night, the
feasting of military friends, of condescending lords and squireen
gentlemen of high rank and influence, justices of the peace of
fiery zeal in provincial politics, men of mark in a country town,
ever ready to partake of hospitality and to enjoy society set
off with such advantages as beauty, and mirth, and gayety un
restricted can lend to it.

It is not for the world to inquire into the circumstance that
may have led to an unhappy union or its unfortunate result ;
whether the home was happy, the society that frequented the
parental abode was safe and suitable for its young inmates ; the
father's example was edifying in his family — the care of his
children sufficient for their security — his love and tenderness
the crown of their felicity ; whether he watched over his daugh
ters as an anxious father should do, and treated them with

8 INTRODUCTION.

kindness and affection, bearing himself quietly and amiably to
ward their mother and themselves ; whether their youth and
innocence were surrounded with religious influences, and the
moral atmosphere in which they lived from childhood and grew
up to womanhood was pure and wholesome !

It matters not, in the consideration of such results, whether
their peace and happiness were made things of sale and barter
by a worthless father ! whether, in forcing them to give their
hands where they could not give their hearts, they had been
sold for a price, and purchased for a consideration in which
they had no share or interest !

The interests of religion, of truth, and morality, do not require
that we should throw aside all considerations of this sort, and
come to a conclusion on a single fact, without any reference to
the influences of surrounding circumstances.

The grave has never long closed over those who have been
much admired and highly extolled in their day ; who have
been in society formidable competitors for distinction, or in
common opinion very fortunate in life and successful in society,
or some particular pursuit, before the ashes of those dead ce
lebrities are raked for error. Those tombs, indeed, are seldom
ransacked unsuccessfully ; but those who sit in judgment on the
failings of their fellow-creatures are never more likely to be er
roneous in their opinions than when they are most harsh and
uncharitable in their judgments. Those persons who stand
highest in the opinion of their fellow-rnen may rank very low
in the estimation of the Supreme Judge of all ; and those for
whose errors there is here no mercy, may have fewer advan
tages of instruction and example, of position, and of favorable
circumstances that have been thrown away to account for, than
the most spiritually proud of the complacent self-satisfied, self-
constituted judges and arraigners of their fellow-creatures.

It has been said that " a great deal has been told of Gold
smith (in the early and incidental notices of his career) which
a friendly biographer would have concealed, or at least silently
passed over ; he would have felt bound in duty to respect the
character which he took on himself to delineate ; and while he
withheld nothing that rould have enabled the public to form a

INTRODUCTION. i)

right estimate of the subject, he would not have drawn aside
the curtain that concealed the privacy of domestic intercourse,
and exposed to view the weakness and inconsistency of the
thoughtless and confidential hours of a checkered and too for
tuitous life. The skillful painter can preserve the fidelity of
the resemblance, while he knows how to develop all becoming
embellishments. In heightening what is naturally beautiful, in
throwing a shade over the less attractive parts, he presents us
with a work that is at once pleasing and instructive. The bi
ographer must form his narrative by selection. All things be
longing to a subject are not worth telling ; when the circle of
information is once completed, it is often the wisest part to rest
satisfied with the effect produced. Such, evidently, was the
rule which guided Mason in the very elegant and judicious ac
count which he gave of his illustrious friend Gray ; and though
later inquirers have explored and unlocked some channels which
he did not wish to open, they have left the original sketch very
little altered, and hardly at all improved. In this he followed,
though with a more liberal allowance to rational curiosity than
had before been granted, the general practice of all biographers ;
but Boswell's Life of Johnson opened at once the floodgates of
public desire on this subject, and set up an example, too faith
fully imitated, of an indiscriminate development of facts, grat
ifying not a very honorable or healthy curiosity, with the mi
nutest details of personal history, the eccentricities of social in
tercourse, and all the singularities of private life. The original
work, however defective we may think it in its plan, derived
a lustre from the greatness of its subject ; but it has been the
cause of overwhelming literature with a mass of the most heavy
and tiresome biographies of very moderate and obscure men ;
with cumbersome details of a life without interest, and charac
ter without talent, and a correspondence neither illuminated
with spirit nor enriched with fact. ' Yous me parlez,' says
D'Olivet, ' d'un homme de lettres ; parlez moi done de ses talens,
parlez moi de ses ouvrages, mais laissez moi ignorer ses foi-
blesses, et a plus forte raison ses vices.""

* Gent. Mag., March, 1837. Notice of Prior's Life of Goldsmith, p. 229.

A 2

IQ INTRODUCTION.

Those who are desirous to be acquainted with the parentage,
education, and incidents in the early career of the subject of this
memoir, will find the information they require, gracefully given,
and with a tender feeling of affectionate regard for the memory
of the deceased lady of whom this work treats, in a Memoir
written by her niece, Miss Power. Extracts from that Memoir,
by the kind permission of Miss Power, I have been allowed to
avail myself of, and they will be found subjoined to this Intro
duction, with such additional matter of mine appended to them
as Lady Blessington's communications to me, both oral and writ
ten, and my own researches, enable me to offer.

The task I have undertaken is to illustrate the literary life
of Lady Blessington. Her acquaintance with the literary men
and artists of England, and foreign countries, dates from the
period of her marriage with Lord Blessington, and her applica
tion to literature, as a pursuit and an employment, from the time
of the first continental tour, on which she set out in 1822.

It is not necessary for me here, at least, to enter at large into
her early history, though, with one exception, I am probably
better acquainted with it than any other person living. The
whole of that history was communicated to me by Lady Bless
ington, I believe with a conviction that it might be confided to
me with safety, and, perhaps, with advantage at some future
time to her memory.

EXTRACTS FROM A MEMOIR OF THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON
BY Miss POWER, WITH ADDITIONAL MATTER IN BRACKETS IN
SERTED BY THE AUTHOR OF THIS WORK.

" Marguerite Blessington was the third child and second
daughter of Edmund Power, Esq., of Knockbrit, near Clonmel,
in the county of Tipperary, and was born on the first of Sep
tember, 1790. Her father, who was then a country gentleman,
occupied with field-sports and agricultural pursuits, was the only
son of Michael Power, Esq., of Curragheen, and descended from
an ancient family in the county of Waterford. Her mother also
belonged to a very old Roman Catholic family, a fact of which
she was not a little proud, and her genealogical tree was pre-

INTRODUCTION. H

served with a religious veneration, and studied till all its branch
es were as familiar as the names of her children : ' My ancestors,
the Desmonds,' were her household gods, and their deeds and
prowess her favorite theme."

[Mr. Edmund Power, the father of Lady Blessington, was the
son of a country gentleman of a respectable family, once in tol
erable circumstances. His father, Mr. Michael Power, left him
a small property, eight miles distant from Dungarvan, called
Curragheen.

He married, at an early age, a daughter of an ill-fated gen
tleman, Mr. Edmund Sheehy, descended from one of the most
respectable Roman Catholic families in the county of Tipperary.

In 1843 Lady Blessington presented me with an account of
the Sheehy family, drawn up with great care, and from that
document, in the handwriting of Lady Blessington, which is in
my possession, the following notice is taken verbatim.

PEDIGREE OF THE SHEEHY FAMILY.

" This ancient family possessed a large estate on the banks
of the River Deel, in the county of Limerick, from the time that
Maurice, the first Earl of Desmond's daughter, was married to
Morgan Sheehy, who got the said estate from the earl as a por
tion with his wife.

" From the above Morgan Sheehy was lineally descended
Morgan Sheehy, of Ballyallenane. The said Morgan married
Ellen Butler, daughter of Pierce, Earl of Ormond, and the widow
of Connor O'Brien, Earl of Thomond, and had issue, Morgan
Sheehy. The said Morgan Sheehy married Catherine Mac Car-
thy, daughter to Donnough Mac Carthy-More, of Dunhallow, in
the county of Cork ; and had issue, Morgan Sheehy, who mar
ried Joan, daughter of David, Earl of Barrymore, in the county
of Cork, and Lady Alice Boyle, eldest daughter of Richard, Earl
of Cork ; and had issue, Morgan Sheehy, and Meanus, from
whom the Sheehys of Imokilly, and county of Waterford, are
descended. The said Morgan married Catherine, the eldest of
the five daughters of Teige O'Brien, of Ballycorrig, and of Eliza
beth, daughter of Maurice, Earl of Desmond. He had issue,

12 INTRODUCTION.

three sons, John, Edmund, and Roger, and five daughters. Of
the daughters, Joan married Thomas Lord Southwell ; Ellen
married Philip Magrath, of Sleady Castle, in the county of Wa-
terford, Esq. ; Mary married Eustace, son of Sir John Brown,
of Cammus, Bart. ; and Anne married Colonel Gilbrern, of Kil-
mallock.

"Of the five daughters of the above Teige O'Brien, Catherine
married the above Morgan Sheehy, Esq. ; Honoria married Sir
John FitzGerald, of Cloyne, Bart. ; Maudiu married O'Shaugh-
nessy, of Gort ; Julia married Mac Namara, of Cratala ; and
Mary married Sir Thurlough Mac Mahon, of Cleana, in the coun
ty of Clare, Bart.

" Of the three sons of Morgan Sheehy, Esq., and Catherine
O'Brien, John, the eldest, married Mary, daughter of James Ca
sey, of Rathcannon, in the county of Limerick, Esq. (It was in
this John's time, abotit 1650, that Cromwell dispossessed the
family of their estates.) The said John had issue John Sheehy,
who married Catherine, daughter of Donough O'Brien, of Dun-
gillane, Esq. He had issue Charles Sheehy, who married Cath
erine Ryan, daughter of Matthew Ryan, Esq., and of Catherine
FitzGerald, daughter of Sir John FitzGerald, of Clonglish, Bart.,
and had issue John and William Sheehy, Esqs., of Spittal. The
said John married Honoria 0 'Sullivan, maternal grand-daughter
to McBrien, of Sally Sheehan, and had issue one son and two
daughters, viz., William Sheehy, Esq., of Bawnfowne, county
Waterford, and Eleanor and Ellen. (Here there is an omission
of any mention of William Sheehy's marriage.) The said Ele
anor married William Cranick, of Galbally, Esq., and had issue
Ellen, who married Timothy Gluinlan, Esq., of Tipperary. Ed
mund Sheehy,* Esq., son of the above-named Wrilliam Sheehy,
and brother to Eleanor and Ellen, married Margaret 0 'Sullivan,
of Ballylcgate, and had issue Robert and James Sheehy, and
two daughters, Ellen and Mary. The said Ellen married Ed
mund Power, Esq., of Curragheen, in the county of Waterford ;
and had issue, Anne, who died in her tenth year ; Michael, who

* Executed in 176G for alleged rebellion. Edmund Sheehy was called Buck
Sheehy, and lived at Bawnfowne, county Waterford.

INTRODUCTION. 13

died a Captain in the 2d West India Regiment at St. Lucia, in
the West Indies ; Marguerite, who married, firstly, Captain St.
Leger Farmer, of the 47th Regiment, who died in 1817, and
secondly, the Earl of Blessington ; Ellen, who married John
Home Purves, Esq., son of Sir Alexander Purves, Bart., of Purves
Hall, in the county of Berwick, and secondly, to Viscount Can
terbury ; Robert, who entered the army young, and left it a Cap
tain in the 30th Regiment of Foot in 1823. The said Robert
married Agnes Brooke, daughter of Thomas Brooke, Esq., first
member of council at St. Helena ; and Mary Anne, married, in
1831, to Count de St. Marsault."*

In the Appendix will be found a detailed account of the per
secutions of several members of the Sheehy family in 1765 and
1766. It commenced with the prosecution, conviction, and ex
ecution of a priest, Father Nicholas Sheehy, who was a cousin
of Edmund Sheehy, the grandfather of Lady Blessington.

If ever affrighted justice might be said to " swing from her
moorings," and, passion-driven, to be left at the mercy of the
winds and waves of party violence, it surely was in these iniqui
tous proceedings ; and for innocence it might indeed be affirmed
that there was no anchorage in the breasts of a jury, in those
times, packed as it was for the purpose of conviction, or in the
sanctuary of a court, surrounded by a military force to overawe
its functionaries, and to intimidate the advocates and witnesses
of the accused. The unfortunate Father Sheehy was found
guilty of the murder of a man named John Bridge, and sen
tenced to be hanged, drawn, and quartered, and the sentence
was carried into execution at Clonmel. The head of the judi
cially murdered priest was stuck on a spike, and placed over the
porch of the old jail, and there it was allowed to remain for up
ward of twenty years, till at length his sister, Mrs. Burke, was
allowed to remove it.

The next victim of the Sheehy family was the cousin of the
priest, Edmund Sheehy, the grandfather of Lady Blessington ;
and he, equally innocent, and far less obnoxious to suspicion of

* Here ends the genealogical account of the Sheehy family, given me by Lady
Blessington.— R. R. M.

14 INTRODUCTION.

any misprision of agrarian outrage, was put to death a little later
than his relative.

Edmund Sheehy, the maternal grandfather of Lady Blessing-
ton, who perished on the scaffold in May, 1766, arid was buried
in Kilronan church-yard, left four children, Robert, James, Ellen,
and Mary. One of his sisters had married a Dr. Gleeson, of
Cavehill, near Dungarvan. His eldest son, Robert, was mur
dered on his own property in 1831, at Bawnfowne, in the parish
of Kilronan ; his eldest daughter, Ellen, married Edmund Power,
Esq., of Curragheen, in the county of Waterford. This lady was
not in anywise remarkable for her intellectual qualities. She
was a plain, simple woman, of no pretensions to elegance of
manners or remarkable cleverness. She died in Dublin up
ward of twenty years ago. The second son, James, went to
America at an early age, and was never afterward heard of.
His youngest daughter, Mary, married a Mr. John Colins, the
proprietor of a newspaper in Clonmel.

Robert Sheehy, who was murdered in 1831, left a son (Mr.
John Sheehy, first cousin of Lady Blessington), whom. I knew
about two years ago in Clonmel, filling the situation of Master
of the Auxiliary AVorkhouse (named Keyward Workhouse).
Shortly after his marriage, Mr. Power removed to Knockbrit, a
place about two miles from Cashel, and there, where he resided
for many years, all his children were born.]

" Beauty, the heritage of the family, was, in her early youth,
denied to Marguerite : her eldest brother and sister, Michael
and Anne, as well as Ellen and Robert, were singularly hand
some and healthy children, while she, pale, weakly, and ailing,
was for years regarded as little likely ever to grow to woman
hood ; the precocity of her intellect, the keenness of her percep
tions, and her extreme sensitiveness, all of which are so often
regarded, more especially among the Irish, as the precursive
symptoms of an early death, confirmed this belief, and the poor,
pale, reflective child was long looked upon as doomed to a pre
mature grave.

" The atmosphere in which she lived was but little congenial
to such a nature. Her father, a man of violent temper, and lit-/

INTRODUCTION. 15

tie given to study the characters of his children, intimidated and
shook the delicate nerves of the sickly child, though there were
moments — rare ones, it is true — when the sparkles of her early
genius for an instant dazzled and gratified him. Her mother,
though she failed not to bestow the tenderest maternal care on
the health of the little sufferer, was not capable of appreciating
her fine and subtile qualities, and her brothers and sisters, fond
as they were of her, were not, in their high health and boister
ous gayety, companions suited to such a child.

" During her earliest years, therefore, she lived in a world of
dreams and fancies, sufficient, at first, to satisfy her infant mind,
but soon all too vague and incomplete to fill the blank within.
Perpetual speculations, restless inquiries, to which she could
find no satisfactory solutions, perpetually occupied her dawning
intellect ; and, until at last accident happily threw in her way
an intelligence capable of comprehending the workings of the
infant spirit, it was at once a torment and a blessing to her.

" This person, a Miss Anne Dwyer, a friend of her mother's,
was herself possessed of talents and information far above the
standard of other country women in those days.

" Miss Dwyer was surprised, and soon interested by the re
flective air and strange questions which had excited only ridicule
among those who had hitherto been around the child. The de
velopment of this fine organization, and the aiding it to compre
hend what had so long been a sealed book, formed a study
fraught with pleasure to her ; and while Marguerite was yet an
infant, this worthy woman began to undertake the task of her
education.

" At a very early age, the powers of her imagination had al
ready begun to develop themselves. She would entertain her
brothers and sisters for hours with tales invented as she pro
ceeded ; and at last, so remarkable did this talent become, that
her parents, astonished at the interest and coherence of her nar
rations, constantly called upon her to improviser for the enter
tainment of their friends and neighbors, a task always easy to
her fertile brain ; and, in a short time, the little neglected child
became the wonder of the neighborhood.

16 INTRODUCTION.

" The increasing ages of their children, and the difficulty of
obtaining the means of instruction for them at Knockbrit, in
duced Mr. and Mrs. Power to put into practice a design long
formed, of removing to Clonmel, the county town of Tipperary.
This change, which was looked upon by her brothers and sisters
as a source of infinite satisfaction, was to Marguerite one of al
most unmingled regret. To leave the place of her birth, the
scenes which her passionate love of nature had so deeply en
deared to her, was one of the severest trials she had ever expe
rienced, and was looked forward to with sorrow and dread. At
last, the day arrived when she was to leave the home of her
childhood, and sad and lonely she stole forth to the garden to
bid farewell to each beloved spot.

" Gathering a handful of flowers to keep in memory of the
place, she, fearing the ridicule of the other members of the fam
ily, carefully concealed them in her pocket ; and with many
tears and bitter regrets, was at last driven from Knockbrit,
where, as it seemed to her, she left all of happiness behind her."

[The removal of the Powers from Knockbrit to Clonmel must
have been about the year 1796 or 1797. Their house in Clon
mel, which I lately visited, is a small, incommodious dwelling,
near the bridge leading to the adjoining county of Waterford, at
a place called Suir Island.]

" At Clonmel, the improving health of Marguerite, and the so
ciety of children of her own age, gradually produced their effect
on her spirits ; and though her love of reading and study con
tinued rather to increase than abate, she became more able to
join in the amusements of her brothers and sisters, who, delight
ed at the change, gladly welcomed her into their society, and
manifested the affection which hitherto they had little opportu
nity of displaying.

" But soon it seemed as if the violent grief she had experi
enced at quitting the place of her birth, was prophetic of the
misfortunes which, one by one, followed the removal to Clonmel.

" Her father, with recklessness too prevalent in his day, com
menced a mode of living, and indulged in pleasures and hospi
tality, which his means, though amply sufficient to supply nec
essary expenses, were wholly inadequate to support.

INTRODUCTION.

17

"In an evil hour he was tempted by the representations of a
certain nobleman, more anxious to promote his own interest and
influence than scrupulous as to the consequences which might
result to others, to accept the situation of magistrate for the coun
ties of Tipperary and Waterford, a position from which no pecu
niary advantage was to be obtained, and which, in those times
of trouble and terror, was fraught with difficulty and danger.

" Led on by promises of a lucrative situation and hints at the
probability of a baronetcy, as well as by his own fearless and
reckless disposition, Mr. Power performed the painful and oner
ous duties of his situation with a zeal which procured for him
the animosity of the friends and relatives in the remotest degree,
of those whom it was his fate, in the discharge of the duties of
his office, to bring to punishment, and entirely precluded his
giving the slightest attention to the business which had bid so
fair to re-establish the fortunes of his family. His nights were
spent in hunting down, with troops of dragoons, the unfortunate
and misguided rebels, whose connections, in turn, burned his
store-houses, destroyed his plantations, and killed his cattle ;
while for all of these losses he was repaid by the most flatter
ing encomiums from his noble friend, letters of thanks from the
Secretary for Ireland, acknowledging his services, and by the
most gratifying and marked attention at the Castle when he
visited Dublin.

" He was too proud to remind the nobleman he believed to be
his friend of his often-repeated promises, while the latter, only
too glad not to be pressed for their performance, continued to
lead on his dupe, and, instead of the valuable official appoint
ment, &c., &c., proposed to him to set up a newspaper, iri which
his lordship was to procure for him the publication of the gov
ernment proclamations, a source of no inconsiderable profit.
This journal was, of course,. to advocate only his lordship's po
litical views, so that, by way of serving his friend, he found a
cheap and easy method of furthering his own plans. The result
may be guessed ; Mr. Power, utterly uiisuited in every respect
to the conduct of such an undertaking, only became more and
more deeply involved, and year by year added to his difficulties."

18 INTRODUCTION.

[Alderman H , of Clonmel, a schoolfellow of one of the

sons of Mr. Power, and well acquainted with the latter, informs
me, " When Mr. Power came to Clonmel, he was about thirty
years of age ; he was a good-looking man, of gentlemanly ap
pearance and manners. He was then married. His first v/ife
was a Miss Sheehy, of a highly respectable family. He en
gaged in the business of a corn-merchant and butter buyer.
Subsequently he became proprietor of the Clonmel Gazette, or
Munster Mercury. The editor of it was the well-known Ber
nard Wright. The politics of the paper were liberal — Catholic
politics — Power was then a Catholic, though not a very strict or
pbservant one.* The paper advocated the electioneering inter
ests of the Landaff or Matthew family.

" Bernard Wr right," continues Alderman H , " the editor

of the Clonmel Gazette, was my guardian. He was a man of
wit, a poet, and an accomplished gentleman. He had been ed
ucated for the Church in France. He was the only member of
his family who was a member of the Roman Catholic religion.
He had to fly from Paris at the time of the French Revolution.
In the Irish rebellion of 1798, he was one of the victims of the
savagery of Sir Thomas Judkin Fitzgerald, and the only one of
those victims who made that ferocious man pay for his inhu
manity after 1798."

In January, 1844, when residing in Portugal, Mr. Jeremiah
Meagher, Vice-consul at Lisbon, a native of Clonmel, and a
clerk of Lady Blessington's father at the time the latter edited
the Clonmel Gazette in that town, informed rne of many par
ticulars relating to his connection with Mr. Power, and his great
intimacy with Lady Blessington and her sister, which account
Lady Blessington subsequently confirmed when I visited her in
London, and spoke of my friend, the vice-consul, in the warmest
terms of affectionate regard.

* Power's family \verc Roman Catholics, but it seems that he had conformed
to the Protestant religion, and had stipulated that his sons should be brought up
in that faith, and had consented that his daughters should be of the religion of
their mother, who was a Catholic. Mr. Power, however, when he had nothing
more to expect from his great patrons, came back to the old church, lived for many
years in it, and died, it may be said with perfect truth, " a very unworthy member

INTRODUCTION. 19

Mr. Meagher, in reference to the torture inflicted on Bernard
Wright in 1798, said, "He was flogged severely for having a
letter in the French language in his pocket, which had been
addressed to him by one of his friends, he being a teacher of
the French language. Poor Wright used to furnish articles of
a literary kind for the paper, and assist in the management, but
he had no political opinions of any kind. Of that fact he, Mr.
Meagher, was quite certain. In 1804, the paper was prosecuted
for a libel on Colonel Bagwell, written at the instigation of Mr.
Watson, in the interest of Lord Donoughmore. There was a
verdict against Power, and he was left to pay the costs."

The newspaper concern was a ruinous affair to Mr. Power.
Mr. Meagher says, " Of all the children of Mr. Power, Marguerite
was his favorite. He never knew a person naturally better dis
posed, or of such goodness of heart." He knew her subsequently
to her marriage in 1804, when living at Cahir.

Lady Blessington informed me that " her father's pursuits in
carrying out the views of his patron, Lord Donoughmore, caused
him to neglect his business. His affairs became deranged. To
retrieve them, he entered into partnership, in a general mercan
tile way, with Messrs. Hunt and O'Brien, of Waterford. He
expended a great deal of money there in building stores and
warehouses. Those buildings, however, were burned by the
people (it was imagined), in revenge for the cruelties he had
practiced on them.

" His violence," continued her ladyship, " which had formerly
been of a political kind only, now became a sort of constitution
al irascibility, his temper more and more irritable, his habits
irregular and disorderly — he became a terror to his wife and
children. He treated his wife with brutality, he upbraided her
frequently with her father's fate, and would often say to her,
' What more could be expected from the daughter of a convicted rebel?'

" His mercantile career was unfortunate ; his partners got rid
of him after many fruitless remonstrances. He had overdrawn
the capital he had put into the house by several thousand pounds.
His next speculation was a newspaper, called the Clonmel Mer
cury, which was set up by him at the instance of Lord Donough-

oo INTRODUCTION.

more, for the support of his lordship's electioneering interests in
the county, and of his political opinions. Bernard Wright, the
person who was flogged in 1798 by Sir John Judkin Fitzgerald
for having a French letter in his pocket, was for some time the
manager and editor of that paper. The paper was at length
prosecuted for a libel written by Lord Donoughmore ; but his
lordship left her father to bear the brunt of the action, and to
pay the expense of the suit and the damages. The paper then
went to ruin ; Mr. Power for some years previously had given
himself up to dissipation, and his ailairs had become involved
in difficulties even previously to his settling up the paper, so
much so, that she (Lady Blessington) and her sister Ellen, while
at school, had often felt the humiliation of being debarred from
learning certain kinds of work, tambour embroidery, &c., on ac
count of the irregularity of the payment of their school charges."

Mr. Power was a fair, though not, perhaps, a very favorable
specimen of the Irish country gentleman of some sixty years ago,
fond of dogs, horses, wine, and revelry, and very improvident
and inattentive to all affairs of business. He was a fine-looking
man, of an imposing appearance, showy, and of an aristocratic
air, very demonstrative of frills and ruffles, much given to white
cravats, and the wearing of leather breeches and top boots.
He was known to the Tipperary bloods as " a buck," as " shiver
the frills," " Beau Power," and other appellations complimenta
ry to his sporting character, rollicking disposition, and very re
markable costume.

When the times were out of joint in 1798, and for some years
succeeding that disastrous epoch, Mr. Power, having thrown him
self into local politics, and becoming deeply engaged in public
affairs, acquired in a short time the character of a terrorist in
the district that was the sphere of his magisterial duties. The
hunting of suspected rebels, of persons thought to be disloyal in
the late rebellion, even so long as four and five years after its
complete suppression, became a favorite pursuit of Mr. Power.
At length the energy of his loyalty went beyond the law. In
scouring the country in pursuit of suspected rebels, he took it
into his head to arrest a young man whom he met on the road.

INTRODUCTION. ^1

The unfortunate man fled at the approach of the armed gentle
man with his pistol leveled at him. Mr. Power shot the flying
peasant, seized the wounded man, set him on a horse, and car
ried his dying prisoner first to his own house, and from thence
to the jail at Clonmel. The unfortunate man died. Mr. Power
was tried for the murder, and was acquitted.

The particulars of this frightful affair were given me in
1843 by Lady Blessington, and more recently by other parties
having a very intimate knowledge of the circumstances refer
red to.

The account given me by Lady Blessington in some respects
differs from the others ; but, though it contradicts them in some
minor details, it must be borne in mind her ladyship's account
is evidently derived from that put forward by her father in his
defense.

Though at the risk of being somewhat prolix, it seems best,
in a matter of this kind, to give the several statements which
seem deserving of attention separately.

Lady Blessington, in speaking to me of this catastrophe, said,

" On one occasion (when her father went out scouring the
country for suspected rebels) he took his son Michael out with
him. After riding along the road for some time, he informed
the young man he was going to apprehend a very desperate fel
low in the neighborhood, whom none of the constables dare lay
hands on. The son, whose principles were altogether opposed
to the father's, was reluctant to go on this mission, but dared
not refuse. The father, approaching the cabin of the suspected
peasant, saw a person at work in an adjoining field. Mr. Power
galloped into the field, attended by his son and a servant, and
leveling a pistol at the man's head, called on him to surrender
(but exhibited no warrant for his apprehension). The man flung
a stone at his assailant, whereupon Mr. Power, taking deliber
ate aim, mortally wounded the man in the body. This was not
sufficient ; he placed the wounded man on horseback behind his
servant, and thus conveyed him to town, and in the first instance
to his own place of abode, and then to jail."

Lady Blessington added, that " she remembered with horror

22 INTRODUCTION.

the sight of the wounded man mounted behind the servant, as
the party entered the stable-yard of her father's house ; pale
and ghastly, his head sunk on his breast, his strength apparently
exhausted, his clothes steeped with blood, when in this condi
tion he was brought into the court-yard bound to the servant.
The horror of this deed never left the mind of Michael Power ;
it haunted him during his short career. He died at an early
age in St. Lucia, one of the most noble-minded and tender
hearted of human beings. Such was the influence of his char
acter over the unfortunate wounded man, that when he was
dying, he besought his family to take no steps against Mr. Pow
er, and this was solely in consideration of the humanity exhib
ited by the son. The man died, and Bagwell, from animosity
to Power, on account of his alliance with the Donoughmore in
terest, persuaded the family to prosecute Power. Proceedings
were commenced against him, but the grand jury threw out the
bill. A second bill was sent up subsequently and found, but
Power fled to England, and returned in time to take his trial for
murder. He was acquitted ; but the judge, even in those un
happy times (it was about 1803), thought this murder going a
little too far with the system of terror ; he reprobated the con
duct of Power, and had his name expunged from the magistracy."

Alderman H states that Mr. Power, in and after the re
bellion of 1798, was what was called " an active magistrate,
and when patrolling the country, he shot a young man named
Lonergan, the son of a widow, a peasant. This poor fellow
Power called a rebel, and had his dead body brought into town
and hung out of the old court-house, or, as the place was called
long subsequently, the main guard."

This gentleman adds, " There the body was first seen by his
mother after the boy's death, and after she had gazed on the
body for a few instants, she knelt down and cursed her son's
murderer."

A lady, upon whose accuracy every dependence can be plared,
Mrs. Ryan, a native of Tipperary (and nearly connected by mar
riage with Mr. John O'Connell), who knew Lady Blessington
when a child, her father and Mr. Power being near neighbors,

INTRODUCTION. 23

states that Mr. Power, in the stormy period of 1798 and some
succeeding years, sought to obtain local influence and distinction
by hunting down the peasantry at the head of a troop of mount
ed yeomanry. He succeeded in being made a magistrate. He
was in the habit of scouring the country for suspected parties
around his residence.

At a period when martial law was in full force throughout
the country, Mr. Power, in one of his scouring expeditions in his
district, met a young lad going along the road, with a pitchfork
in his hand, the son of an old widow woman living on the prop
erty of Mr. Ryan's father. Mr. Power, on seeing the lad, at
once decided he was a rebel, and his pitchfork was an evidence
of treasonable intentions. The sight of the well-known terror
ist and his troopers was at once sufficient to put the lad to night
— he ran into a field. Mr. Power fired at him as he was run
ning ; the shot took effect, and death shortly afterward was the
result. Mrs. Ryan states, the widow and her son (her only
child) were harmless, honest, well-disposed people, much liked
in the neighborhood. The lad, having broken the prong of his
fork, was proceeding to the smith's forge in the evening of the
day referred to to get it mended, when he had the misfortune
to fall in with Mr. Power at an angle of a road, and was mur
dered by him. Before the poor lad had left the cabin, his
mother subsequently stated that she had said to him, " Johnny,
dear, it's too late to go : maybe Mr. Power and the yeomen are
out." The lad said, " Never mind, mother, I'll only leave the
fork and come back immediately ; you know I can't do without
it to-morrow. The widow watched for her son all night long
in vain. He returned to her no more. She made fruitless in
quiries at the smith's. She went into Clonmel in the morning,
and there she learned her son had been shot by Mr. Power.

The usual brutality of exposing the mutilated body of a pre
sumed rebel in front of the jail was gone through in this case.
The widow recognized the remains of her only child. Her
piercing shrieks attracted attention. They soon ceased ; some
of the bystanders carried away the old creature senseless and
speechless. She had no one now of kith or kin to help her, no

24 INTRODUCTION.

one at home to mind her, and she was unable to rnind herself.
Mrs. Ryan's father, a humane, good-hearted man, took pity on.
the poor old forlorn creature. He had her brought to his own.
home, and she remained an inmate of it to the day of her death.
The children of this good man have a rich inheritance in his
memory to be proud of and thankful to God for. The old
woman never wholly recovered the shock she had sustained ;
she moped and pined away in a state of listless apathy, that
merged eventually into a state of hypochondria, and in a par
oxysm of despondency she attempted to put an end to her ex
istence by cutting her throat.

Strange to say, although the windpipe was severed, and she
lost a great deal of blood, the principal arteries being uninjured,
with timely assistance and the best medical care she partially
recovered, and was restored, not only to tolerable bodily health,
but to a comparatively sound state of mind also. She died after
a year or two. Scarcely any one out of Ryan's house cared for
her or spoke about her; nothing more was heard of her or hers,
but the voice of her innocent son's blood went up to heaven.

The ways and wisdom of heaven are inscrutable indeed.
Mr. Power, who shed that innocent blood, lived for some years
in the midst of revelry and riot, and eventually died in his bed,
not wanting for any of the necessaries or comforts of life, with
ample time, but with no disposition for repentance for an ill-
spent life.

But the eldest son of Mr. Power, Michael, a noble-minded,
generous, kindly-disposed youth, who looked with horror on the
acts of his father, and was forced to witness the last barbarous
outrage of his, to which reference has been just made, who
never spoke to his sister Marguerite of that terrible outrage
without shuddering at its enormity — he died in a distant land,
in the prime of life, suddenly, without previous warning or ap
prehension of his untimely fate.]

" About this time," says Miss Power, " Anne, the eldest of
the family, was attacked by a nervous fever, partly the result
of the terror and anxiety into which the whole of the family
were plunged by the misfortunes which gathered round them,

INTRODUCTION. 35

aggravated by the frequent and terrible outbreaks of rage to
which their father, always passionate, now became more than
ever subject. In spite of every effort, this lovely child, whose
affectionate disposition and endearing qualities entirely preclud
ed any feeling of jealousy which the constant praises of her ex
treme beauty, to the disparagement of Marguerite, might have
excited in the breast of the latter, fell a victim to the disease,
and not long after, Edmund, the second son, also died.*

" These successive misfortunes so impaired the health and
depressed the spirits of the mother, that the gloom continued to
fall deeper and deeper over the house.

" Thus matters continued for some years, though there were
moments when the natural buoyancy of childhood caused the
younger members of the family to find relief from the cloud of
sorrow and anxiety that hung over their home. The love of
society still entertained by their father brought not unfrequent
guests to his board, and enabled his children to mix with the
families around. Among those who visited at his house were
some whose names have been honorably known to their coun
try. Lord Hutchinson and his brothers, Curran, the brilliant
and witty Lysaght, Generals Sir Robert Mac Farlane, and Sir
Colquhoun Grant — then lieutenant colonels — officers of various
ranks, and other men of talent and merit, were among these
visitors, and their society and conversation were the greatest
delight of Marguerite, who, child as she was, was perfectly ca
pable of understanding and appreciating their superiority."

[Among those also, in 1804, who were intimately acquainted
with the Powers, were Captain Henry Hardinge, of the 47th
Regiment of Foot, Captain Archibald Campbell, Major Edward
Blakeney, and Captain James Murray of the same regiment.]

"At fourteen, Marguerite began to enter into the society of
grown-up persons, an event which afforded her no small satis
faction, as that of children, with the exception of her brothers
and sisters, especially Ellen, from whom she was almost insepar
able, had but little charm for her. Ellen, who was somewhat

* Lady Blessington, in the account of the family given to me by her ladyship,
makes no mention of a son named Edmund. — R. R. M.

VOL. I.— B

25 INTRODUCTION.

more than a year her junior, shared the beauty of her family,
a fact of which Marguerite, instead of being jealous, was
proud, and the greatest affection subsisted between the sisters,
though there Avas but little similarity in their dispositions or
pursuits. In order that they might not be separated, Ellen,
notwithstanding her extreme youth, was permitted to accom
pany her sister into the society of Tipperary. that is to say, to
assemblies held there once a week, called Coteries. These,
though music and dancing were the principal amusements, were
not considered as balls, to which only girls of riper years were
admitted. Here, though Ellen's beauty at first procured her
much more notice and admiration than fell to the lot of her
sister, the latter, ere long, began to attract no inconsiderable
degree of attention. Her dancing was singularly graceful, and
the intelligence of her conversation produced more lasting
impressions than mere physical beauty could have won.

"About this period the 47th Regiment arrived, and was sta
tioned at Clonmel, and, according to the custom of country
towns, particularly in Ireland, all the houses of the leading gen
try were thrown open to receive the officers with due attention.

"At a dinner given to them by her father. Marguerite was
treated with marked attention by two of them, Captain Mur
ray and Captain Farmer, and this attention was renewed at a
juvenile ball given shortly after.

" The admiration of Captain Murray, although it failed to
win so very youthful a heart, pleased and flattered her, while
that of Captain Farmer excited nothing but mingled fear and
distaste. She hardly knew why ; for young, good-looking, and
with much to win the good graces of her sex, he was generally
considered as more than equal to Captain Murray in the power
of pleasing.

"An instinct, however, which she could neither define nor
control, increased her dislike to such a degree at every succeed
ing interview, that Captain Farmer, perceiving it Avas in vain
to address her personally, applied to her parents, unknoAvn to
her, offering his hand, with the most liberal proposals which a
good fortune enabled him to make. In ignorance of an event

INTRODUCTION.

27

which was destined to work so important a change in her des
tiny, Marguerite received a similar proposal from Captain Mur
ray, who at the same time informed her of the course adopted
by his brother officer, and revealed a fact which perhaps ac
counted for the instinctive dread she felt for him."

[Captain Farmer was subject to fits of ungovernable passion,
at times so violent as to endanger the safety of himself and
those around him ; and at all times there was about him a cer
tain wildness and abruptness of speech and gesture, which left
the impression on her mind that he was insane.]

"Astonishment, embarrassment, and incredulity were the feel
ings uppermost in the girl's mind at a communication so every
way strange and unexpected.

"A few days proved to her that the information of Captain
Farmer's having addressed himself to her parents was but too
true ; and the further discovery that these addresses were
sanctioned by them, filled her with anxiety and dismay. She
knew the embarrassed circumstances of her father, the desire
he would naturally feel to secure a union so advantageous in
a worldly point of view for one of his children, and she knew,
too, his fiery temper, his violent resistance of any attempt at
opposition, and the little respect, or consideration, he entertain
ed for the wishes of any of his family when contrary to his own.
Her mother, too, gave but little heed to what she considered
as the foolish and romantic notions of a child who was much
too young to be consulted in the matter. Despite of tears,
prayers, and entreaties, the unfortunate girl was compelled to
yield to the commands of her inexorable parents ; and, at four
teen and a half, she was united to a man who inspired her
with nothing but feelings of terror and detestation."*

[Captain Maurice St. Leger Farmer entered the army in
February, 1795 ; he had been on half pay in 1802, and obtained
his company the 9th of July, 1803, in the 47th Regiment of
Foot.f In 1805 he continued in the same regiment, but in 1806

* The brideman of Captain Farmer was a Captain Hardinge, of the 47th Reg
iment. The captain became a general, and is now a lord. — R. R. M.
t Vide Army Lists for 1804, 5, 6.

28 INTRODUCTION.

liis name is not to be found in the Army List, neither of officers
on full or on half pay.]

" The result of such a union may be guessed. Her husband
could not but be conscious of the sentiment she entertained
toward him, though she endeavored to conceal the extent of
her aversion ; and this conviction, acting upon his peculiarly
excitable temperament, produced such frequent and terrible
paroxysms of rage and jealousy, that his victim trembled in his
presence. It were needless to relate the details of the period
of misery, distress, and harrowing fear through which Margue
rite, a child in years, though old in suffering, passed. Denied
in her entreaties to be permitted to return to the house of her
parents, she at last, in positive terror for her personal safety,
fled from the roof of her husband to return no more."

[There is a slight mistake in the passage above referred to.
On Lady Blessington's own authority I am able to state, that
she did return to her father's house, though she was very reluct
antly received there. The particulars of this unhappy marriage
had best be given in the words of Lady Blessington, and the
following is* an account of it, furnished me by her ladyship on
the 15th of October, 1853.

'* Her father was in a ruined position at the time Lady Bless
ington was brought home from school, a mere child, and treated
as such. Among his military friends, she then saw a Captain
Farmer for the first time ; he appeared on very intimate terms
with her father, but when she first met him, her father did not
introduce her to him ; in fact, she was looked on then as a mere
school-girl, whom it was not necessary to introduce to any
stranger. In a day or two her father told her she was not to
return to school : he had decided that she was to marry Captain
Farmer. This intelligence astonished her ; she burst out cry
ing, and a scene ensued in which his menaces and her protesta
tions against his determination terminated violently. Her
mother unfortunately sided with her father, and eventually, by
caressing entreaties and representations of the advantages her
father looked forward to from this match with a man of Cap
tain Farmer's affluence, she was persuaded to sacrifice herself,

INTRODUCTION. 29

and to marry a man for whom she felt the utmost repugnance.
She had not been long under her husband's roof before it
became evident to her that her husband was subject to fits of
insanity, and his own relatives informed her that her father
had been acquainted by them that Captain Farmer had been
insane ; but this information had been concealed from her by
her father. She lived with him about three months, and dur
ing this time he frequently treated her with personal violence ;
he used to strike her on the face, pinch her till her arms were
black and blue, lock her up whenever he went abroad, and
often has left her without food till she felt almost famished.
He was ordered to join his regiment, which was encamped at
the Curragh of Kildare. Lady Blessington refused to accom
pany him there, and was permitted to remove to her father's
house, to remain there during his absence. Captain Farmer
joined his regiment, and had not been many days with it,
when, in a quarrel with his colonel, he drew his sword on the
former, and the result of this insane act (for such it was
allowed to be) was, that he was obliged to quit the service,
being permitted to sell his commission. The friends of Captain
Farmer now prevailed on him to go to India (I think Lady
Blessington said in the Company's service) ; she, however,
refused to go with him, and remained at her father's."

Such is the account given to me by Lady Blessington, and for
the accuracy of the above report of it I can vouch ; though, of
course, I can offer no opinion as to the justice of her conclusions
in regard to the insanity of Captain Farmer. But it must be
stated fully and unreservedly that the account given by her la
dyship of the causes of the separation, and those set forth in a
recent communication of a brother of Captain Farmer to the edi
tor of a Dublin evening paper are in some respects at variance.

But in one important point the statement of the brother of
Captain Farmer, in contradiction of the account given by Lady
Blessington's niece of the habits of Captain Farmer, must be er
roneous, if the finding of the jury at the inquest held on his body,
and the evidence of the deputy marshal of the prison be correct.

Mr. John Sheehy, now residing in Clonmel, the cousin of Lady

30

INTRODUCTION.

Blessington, informs me that " he has a perfect recollection of
the marriage of Lady Blessington with Captain Farmer. His
father considered it a forced marriage, and used to speak of the
violence done to the poor girl by her father as an act of tyranny.
It was an unfortunate marriage," says Mr. Sheehy, " and it led
to great misfortunes. It was impossible for her to live with
Captain Farmer. She fled from him, and sought refuge in her
father's house.

" She refused to return to her husband, and a separation was
agreed on by the parties. Mrs. Farmer found herself very un
happily circumstanced in her former home. Her father was
unkind, and sometimes more than unkind to her. She was
looked on as an interloper in. the house, as one who interfered
with the prospects and advancement in life of her sisters. It
was supposed that one of the military friends of Mr. Power's,
and a frequent visitor at his house, Captain Jenkins, then sta
tioned at Tullow,had been disposed to pay his addresses to Miss
'Ellen Power, and to have married her, and was prevented by
other stronger impressions made on him by one then wholly
unconscious of the influence exerted by her."* The supposition,
however, was an erroneous one.

Captain Jenkins was brought up in the expectation of inher
iting a large fortune in Hampshire, and was ultimately disap
pointed in that expectation. For several years he had a large
income, and having expended a great deal of money previously
to his marriage, had been for many years greatly embarrassed.
His embarrassments, however, did not prevent him from retain-

* The officer referred to by Mr. Sheehy was a Captain Thomas Jenkins, of the
llth Light Dragoons, a gentleman of a good family in Hampshire, and of very
large expectations of fortune.

By the Army List we find this gentleman entered the army in December, 1801.
He held the rank of lieutenant in the llth Light Dragoons in January, 1802. In
December, 1806, he obtained a captaincy, and continued to hold the same rank
in that regiment till after the peace in 1815. In 1809 he was domiciled in Dublin,
in Holies Street, and*Mrs. Farmer was then also residing in Dublin. In 1816 his
name disappears from the Army Lists. He had an establishment at Sidmanton,
in Hampshire, for three or four years previously to 1814. He served with his
regiment in the latter part of the Peninsular campaign, and was absent from Sid
manton nearly two years. — R. R. M.

INTRODUCTION. 31

ing the esteem and regard of all who had known him in his
more prosperous circumstances. He was a generous man, an
amiable and high-minded gentleman, of elegant manners and
pleasing address. He married, when rather advanced in years,
the Baroness Calabrella — a sister of a gentleman of some noto
riety in his day, Mr. Ball Hughes — the widow first of a Mr. Lee,
and secondly of a Mr. De Blaquiere. This lady, who was pos
sessed of considerable means, purchased a small property on the
Continent, with some rights of seigniorage appertaining to it,
from which the title is derived which she now bears.

She resided for some years in Abbeville, up to a short period, I
believe, of her second husband's death, which took place in Paris.

This lady is the talented authoress of several remarkable pro
ductions, was long intimately acquainted with Lady Blessing-
ton, and held in very high estimation by her ladyship.

" The house of Mr. Power," Mr. Sheehy states, " was made so
disagreeable to Mrs. Farmer, that she might be said to have been
driven to the necessity of seeking shelter elsewhere.

" He remembers Mrs. Farmer residing at Tullow, in the county
of Waterford, four miles from Lismore. His own family was
then living at Cappoquin, within seven miles of Tullow. Mrs.
Farmer wrote to her uncle and his daughters, but he disap
proved of her separation from Captain Farmer, and refused on
that account to allow his daughter to visit her.

" Previously to her marriage with Captain Farmer," he adds,
" idle persons gossiped about her alleged love of ball-room dis
tinction and intimacy with persons remarkable for gayety and
pleasure. But there was no ground for the rumor."

Another gentleman well acquainted with the family, Alder
man H , says : " Mrs. Farmer lived for nearly three years

with her husband at different places. After the separation, she
sojourned for some time with her aunt, Mrs. Gleeson, the wife
of Dr. Gleeson, who lived at Uingville, near Dungarvan. She
resided also occasionally at her father's with her sister Ellen,
sans reproche (but not without great trials) ; her husband treated
her badly."

Mr. Jeremiah Meagher, British Vice-Consul at Lisbon, inform-

32

INTRODUCTION.

ed me that he was in the employment of Mr. Power, in connec
tion with the Clonmel Gazette, in 1804, at the period of the
marriage of Marguerite Power with Captain Farmer ; that sub
sequently to it he knew her when she was residing at Cahir.

Mr. Meagher speaks in terms of the strongest regard for her.
" He never knew a person so inclined to act kindly toward oth
ers, to do any thing that lay in her power to serve others ; he
never knew a person naturally better disposed, or one possessing
so much goodness of heart. He knew her from childhood to the
period of her marriage, and some years subsequently to it ; and
of all the children of Mr. Power, Marguerite was his favorite."
This is the testimony of a very honest and upright man.
Mr. Meagher says : " She resided at Cahir so late as 1807.
He thinks Captain Jenkins' intimacy with the Power family
commenced in 1807." And another informant, Mr. Wright, son
of Bernard Wright, states that Mrs. Farmer, while residing at
Cahir, visited frequently at Lord GlengalPs. Other persons have
a recollection of Colonel Stewart, of Killymoon, being a favorite
guest at the house of Mr. Power at many entertainments between
1806 and 1807.

The Tyrone militia was stationed at Clonmel or in its vicin
ity about the period of Captain Farmer's marriage with Miss
Power, or not long after that event.

The colonel of this regiment was the Earl of Caledon (date
of appointment, llth of August, 1804). The lieutenant colonel,
Lord Mount] oy (date of appointment, 28th of September, 1804).
His lordship was succeeded in the lieutenant colonelcy by Will
iam Stewart, Esq., son of Sir J. Stewart, of Killymoon (date of
appointment, 16th of April, 1805), and he continued to hold that
rank from 1805 to 1812. As an intimate friend of Lady Bless-
ington and her sister, Lady Canterbury, a few words of Colonel
Stewart may not be out of place.

He was a descendant of the junior branch of the Stewarts of
Ochiltree, who were related to the royal line, and who received
large grants from James I. after his accession to the British
throne. Colonel Stewart's splendid seat and magnificent de
mesne of Killymoon were hardly equaled, for elegant taste and

INTRODUCTION. 33

beauty of situation and scenery, in the county of Tyrone. The
library, the remains of which I saw immediately after the sale
of the property in 1850, was one of the richest in Ireland in
Italian literature. The colonel had been much in Italy, and
had carried back with him the tastes and habits of an accom
plished traveler, and a lover of Italian lore. His personal ap
pearance and manners were remarkable for elegance, and were
no less prepossessing and attractive than his mental qualities
and accomplishments.

Sir John Stewart, the father of the late Colonel Stewart, died
in October, 1825, at his seat, Killymoon. He had been a distin
guished member of the Dungannon volunteer convention. " Sir
John had been returned six times for the county Tyrone, and
had been a member of the Irish and Imperial Parliament for
forty years, during which time he was a steady, uniform, and
zealous supporter of the Constitution in church and state. He
filled the offices of counsel to the Revenue Board, Solicitor Gen*
eral, and Attorney General ; and of him it was truly observed
by an aged statesman, * that he was one of the few men who
grew more humble the higher he advanced in political station.'
Sir John was married in the year 1790 to Miss Archdale, sister
of General Archdale, M.P. for the county of Fermanagh, by whom
he had two sons and a daughter."*

In the several notices of Lady Blessington that have been
published, there is a hiatus in the account given that leaves a
period of about nine years unnoticed.

In 1807 she was living at Cahir, in the county Tipperary, sep
arated from her husband ; in 1809 she was sojourning in Dub
lin ; a little later she was residing in Hampshire ; in 1816, we
find her established in Manchester Square, London ; and at the
commencement of 1818, on the point of marriage with an Irish
nobleman.

The task I have proposed to myself does not render it neces
sary for me to do more than glance at the fact, and to cite a few
passages more from the Memoir of Miss Power.]

" Circumstances having at last induced Mrs. Farmer to fix

* Annual Register, Appendix to Chronicle, 1825, p. 28f>.

B2

34

INTRODUCTION.

upon London as a residence, she established herself in a house
in Manchester Square, where, with her brother Robert (Michael
had died some years previously), she remained for a considera
ble period.

" Notwithstanding the troublous scenes through which she
had passed, the beauty denied in her childhood had gradually
budded and blossomed into a degree of loveliness which many
now living can attest, and which Lawrence painted, and Byron
sung."

[Among the visitors at her house, we are told by Miss Power,
was the Earl of Blessington, then a widower. And on the oc
currence of an event in 1817 which placed the destiny of Mrs.
Farmer in her own hands, his lordship's admiration was soon
made known, and proposals of marriage were offered to her, and
accepted by her, in 1818.

The event above referred to was the death of Captain Far
mer. Captain Farmer, subsequently to the separation about
1807, having left his regiment, still serving in Ireland, went to
the East Indies, obtained an employment there, and remained
in it a few years. He returned to England about 1816, and be
ing acquainted with persons involved in pecuniary embarrass
ments, who had been thrown into prison during their confine
ment within the rules of the Fleet, he visted them frequently,
lived freely, and, I believe it may be added, riotously, with his
imprisoned friends.

On one occasion, of a festive nature, after having been regaled
by them, and indulging to excess, in the act of endeavoring to
sally forth from the room where the entertainment had been
given, he rushed out of the room, placed himself on the ledge
of the window to escape the importunities of his associates, fell
to the ground in the court-yard, and died of the wounds he re
ceived a little later.

From the " Morning Herald" of October 28th, 181 7, the follow
ing account is taken of the inquest on Captain Maurice Farmer :
" An inquisition has been taken at the Bear and Rummer,
Wells Street, Middlesex Hospital, on the body of Captain Mau-
rico Farmer, who was killed by falling from a window in the

INTRODUCTION. 35

King's Bench Prison. The deceased was a captain in the army,
upon half pay ; and having received an appointment in the serv
ice of the Spanish Patriots, went, on Tuesday week, to take leave
of some friends confined in the King's Bench Prison. The party
drank four quarts of rum, and were all intoxicated. When the
deceased rose to go home, his friends locked the door of the
room to prevent him. Apprehensive that they meant to detain
him all night, as they had done twice before, he threw up the
window and threatened to jump out if they did not release him.
Finding this of no avail, he got upon the ledge, and, while ex
postulating with them, lost his balance. He hung on for some
minutes by his hands, but his friends were too much intoxicated
to be able to relieve him. He consequently fell from the two
pair, and had one thigh and one arm broken, and the violence
with which his head came in contact with the ground produced
an effusion of blood on the brain. He was taken up in a state
of insensibility, and conveyed to the Middlesex Hospital, where
he died on Tuesday last. The deputy marshal of the King's
Bench Prison attended the inquest. He stated that the friends
of the deceased had no intention of injuring him ; but, from the
gross impropriety of their conduct, the marshal had committed
them to Horsemonger Lane Jail, to one month's solitary con
finement.

" The jury came to the following verdict : ' The deceased
came to his death by accidentally falling from a window in the
King's Bench Prison when in a state of intoxication.' "

In that statement made to me by Lady Blessingtoii in 1843,
to which I have previously referred, I was informed, " In a few
days after Captain Farmer's death, Perry, of the Morning Chron
icle (then unknown to Lord Blessington), addressed a note to
Lord Blessington, inclosing a statement, purporting to be an ac
count of the death of Captain Farmer, sent to him for insertion
in his paper, throwing an air of mystery over the recent catas
trophe, asserting things that were utterly unfounded, and enter
ing into many particulars in connection with his marriage. The
simple statement of the facts on the part of Lord Blessington to
Perry sufficed to prevent the insertion of this infamous slander,

36 INTRODUCTION.

and laid the foundation of a lasting friendship between Lord
and Lady Blessington, and the worthy man who was then editor
of the 'Morning Chronicle.' '

Mr. Power, in the mean time, had become a ruined man, bank
rupt in fortune, character, and domestic happiness. He removed
to Dublin from Clonmel, and there, in Clarendon Street, Mrs.
Power died, far advanced in years. Her husband married a sec
ond time, upward of twenty years ago, a Mrs. Hymes, widow of
a brewer of Limerick. This lady, whose maiden name was
Yize, was a native of Clonmel. He had been supported for a
great many years previously to his death by his two daughters,
Lady Blessington and Lady Canterbury, who jointly contributed
the sum of one hundred and twenty pounds a year toward his
maintenance. He possessed no other means of subsistence, hav
ing assigned over to his son a small farm which he possessed
in the county of Waterford at the time the arrangement was en
tered into by his daughters to contribute each sixty pounds a
year for his maintenance.

The claims on Lady Blessington were more extensive than
can be well conceived. One member of her family had an an
nual stipend paid monthly, from the year 1836 to 1839 inclu
sive, of five pounds a month. In 1840 it was increased to eight
pounds a month. From 1841 to 1847, inclusive, it was seven
pounds a month. These payments, for which I have seen vouch
ers, amounted, in all, to the sum of seven hundred and eighty-
four pounds. I have reason to believe the stipend was contin
ued to be paid in 1848, which additional sum would make the
amount eight hundred and sixty-eight pounds devoted to the as
sistance of one relative alone, exclusive of other occasional con
tributions on particular occasions.

Miss Mary Anne Power, the youngest sister of Lady Blessing-
ton, married, in 1831, an old French nobleman of ancient fam
ily, the Count Saint Marsault. The disparity of years in this al
liance was too great to afford much expectation of felicity. The
count returned to his own country, and his wife returned to her
native land, preserving there, as elsewhere, a character for some
eccentricity, but one uniformly irreproachable.

INTRODUCTION.

37

Mrs. Dogherty, to whom allusion is made in the letters of
Lady Blessington, was a relative of a Mr. Edward duinlan, of
Clonmel, an old gentleman of considerable means, who had been
connected by marriage with Lady Blessington's mother (vide
genealogical account of the Sheehy family). Mr. duinlan died
in November, 1836, leaving large fortunes to his daughters. On
the occasion of the trial of Edmund Power for the murder of the
boy Lonergan, till Mr. duinlan came forward with a sum of
fifty pounds as a loan to Power, the latter was actually unable
at the time to engage counsel for his defense.

The Countess St. Marsault went to reside with her father on
her arrival in Ireland, first at Arklow, afterward in lodgings at
No. 18 Camden Street, Dublin, and next at 5 Lower Dorset
Street, where, in the latter part of October, 1836, Mr. Power was
reduced to such a helpless state of bodily debility and suffering,
that he was " unable to make the slightest movement without
screaming and groaning with agony." He was attended in Dub
lin by a relative of his, a Dr. Kirwan, a first cousin. He ap
pears to have died in the early part of 1837. On the 30th of
January, 1837, the Countess of St. Marsault was no longer re
siding in Dublin, but was then domesticated at the abode of an
old lady of the name of Dogherty, a relative of hers, at Mont
Bruis, near Cashel, in the county of Tipperary. There she re
mained for nearly a year. " After an absence of thirty years
she visited Clonmel." The date of this visit was April, 1837.
She must then have quitted Clonmel in 1807, in very early
childhood. In 1839 she returned to England.

Mr. Power, at the time of his decease, was seventy years of
age. A youth passed without the benefit of experience, had
merged into manhood without the restraints of religion, or the
influences of kindly home affections, and terminated in age with
out wisdom, or honor, or respect, and death without solemnity,
or the semblance of any becoming fitness for its encounter. The
day before he died, the only thing he could boast of to a friend
who visited him was, that he had been able to take his four or
five tumblers of punch the evening before.

This brief outline brings us to the period of the marriage of

38 NOTICE OF THE EARL OF BLESSIN7GTON.

Lord and Lady Blessington, at which it will be my province to
commence the history of the literary career of her ladyship.

Of Lockhart's " Life of Scott/' it has been observed, " There
we have the author and the man in every stage of his career,
and in every capacity of his existence — Scott in his study and in
court — in his family and in society — in his favorite haunts and
lightest amusements. There he is to be seen in the exact rela
tion in which he stood to his children, his intimates, his ac
quaintances, and dependants — the central figure, and the circle
which surrounded it (Constable, the Ballantynes, Erskine, Ter
ry, and a score or two besides), all drawn with such individual
ity of feature, and all painted in such vivid colors, that we seem
not to be moving among the shadows of the dead, but to live
with the men themselves."*

I hope, at least in one particular, it will be found I have en
deavored to follow, even at an humble distance, the example of
Scott's biographer, in placing before my readers the subject of
my work in a life-like, truthful manner, as she was before the
public in her works and in her saloons, and also in her private
relations toward her friends and relatives.!

CHAPTER I.

NOTICE OF THE EARL OF BLESSINGTOX HIS ORIGIN, EARLY CA
REER, FIRST A.\D SECOND MARRIAGE, ETC.

THE first Earl of Blessington was a descendant of the Walter
Stewart, or Steward, who, " on account of his high descent, and
being the nearest branch of the royal family of Scotland," we
are told by Lodge, f " was created Seneschal, or Lord High Stu
art of Scotland, or Receiver of the Royal Revenues, from which
office his family afterward took and retained their surname of
Stewart." This office arid dignity were created by Malcolm the
Third, of Scotland, after the death of Macdufic, in 1057. The
descendants of the Lord High Constable became the founders of

* Literary Gazette, February 15, 1851.

t Irish Peerage, vol. ii.. p. 196, ed. Rvn, 1754.

NOTICE OF THE EARL OF BLESSINGTON. 39

the house of Lenox, and one of them, by intermarriage with the
daughter of King Robert Bruce, the founder of many noble fam
ilies in England and Ireland. The first Stewart of this race who
settled in Ireland was Sir William Stewart, of Aughentean and
of Newtown Stewart, in the county of Tyrone, and his brother,
Sir Robert Stewart, of Culmore, knights, " both very active and
able gentlemen in the distracted times of King Charles the
First." Sir Robert came into Ireland in the reign of James the
First. He received from that monarch, for his Irish services,
various grants of rectories and other Church property inLeitrim,
Cavan, and Fermanagh, and subsequently a large tract of coun
try of the confiscated lands of Ulster was obtained by his broth
er William. In 1641 he raised and commanded a troop of horse
and a regiment of foot of one thousand men. He was made
Governor of Derry in 1643, and in that year totally routed the
Irish under Owen O'Neill at Clones. He and his brother, hav
ing refused to take the Covenant, were deprived of their com
mand, and sent, by Moiick's orders, prisoners to London. After
many vicissitudes, Sir Robert returned to Ireland, and was ap
pointed governor of the city and county of Derry in 1660. Sir
William, " being in great favor with James the First, became
an undertaker for the plantation of escheated lands in Ulster."
He was created a baronet in 1623. He assisted largely in the
plantation of Ulster, and profited extensively by it. He was a
member of the Privy Council in the time of King James the
First and Charles the First. At the head of his regiment, he,
with his brother's aid, routed Sir Phelira O'JNTeill at Strabane.
He left many children ; his eldest son, Sir Alexander Stewart,
sided with the Covenanters in 1648. He was killed at the bat
tle of Dunbar, in Scotland, in 1653. By his marriage with a
daughter of Sir Robert Newcomen, he had issue Sir William
Stewart, who was made Gustos Rotulorum of the county of Don
egal in 1678, and was advanced to the dignity of Baron Stewart
of Ramaltan, and Viscount Mountjoy, in 1682, being constituted
at the same time Master General of the Ordnance and colonel
of a regiment of horse.

William Stewart, first Viscount Mountjoy, was slain at the

40 NOTICE OF THE EARL OF BLESSINGTON.

battle of Steinkirk, in Flanders, in 1692. He was succeeded by
his son William, Viscount Mountjoy, who died in Bordeaux,
without issue.*

Alexander, brother of the preceding William, died during the
lifetime of his brother, leaving an only daughter.

The Right Honorable Luke Gardiner, member of Parliament
and privy councilor, married, in 1711, Anne, sole daughter and
heiress of the Honorable Alexander Stewart, second son of
William, first Viscount Mount] oy.f

Lord Primate Boulter recommended Mr. Luke Gardiner as a
fit and proper person to be made a privy councilor. His views
of fitness for that high office led him to look out for a sturdy
parvenu of Irish descent, without regard to ancestry, who was
capable of curbing the degenerate lords of the English Pale, and
gentlemen in Parliament descended from English undertakers,
too influential to be easily managed, who had become "Hiberni-
ores quam Hibernis ipsis ;" in a few words, " such a one as Mr.
Gardiner, to help to keep others in order" in the Privy Council.

Primate Boulter, in a communication to the English minister
recommending Mr. Gardiner, said :

" There is another affair which I troubled the Duke of Dorset
about, and which I beg leave to lay before your grace, which is
the making Mr. Gardiner a privy councilor. He is deputy to
the vice-treasurer of this kingdom, and one of the most useful
of his majesty's servants here, as your grace will be fully satis
fied when you do us the honor to be with us. There is nobody
here more against increasing the number of privy councilors
than I am, who think they are by much too numerous ; but it

* Exshaw's London Magazine, 1754, p. 259.

t Luke Gardiner's generally supposed origin and rise in the world from a me
nial station in the service of Mr. White, of Leixlip Castle, a descendant of Sir
Nicholas White, the owner and occupier of the castle in 1GG6, were subjects of
some satirical pasquinades and witticisms in the early part of the last century.
In reference to his alleged former servile situation, it was said that a noble friend
of his, in embarrassed circumstances, once observed to him, on seeing him enter
his carriage, " How does it happen, Gardiner, you never make a mistake and get
up behind ?" To which Gardiner replied, " Some people, my lord, who have been
long accustomed to going in, remain at last on the outside, and can neither get in
nor up again."

NOTICE OF THE EARL OF BLESSINGTON. 41

is because many have been brought in without any knowledge
of business or particular attachment to his majesty's service,
merely for being members of either house of Parliament, that
we want such a one as Mr. Gardiner to help to keep others in
order ; as he is most zealously attached to his majesty by affec
tion as well as by interest, and is a thorough man of business,
and of great weight in the country."*

The practice of making Jews officers in the Inquisition was
thought to have worked well in Spain, and to have served to
keep the grandees in order.

Luke Gardiner died at Bath in 1753, and was succeeded in
his estates by his son, Charles Gardiner, who, on the demise of
his maternal grandfather (when the male line of the Stewart
family ceased), succeeded to all the property of the late lord.
He married in 1741, and at his death left several children.

His oldest son, the Right Honorable Luke Gardiner, inherited
the Mountjoy estates. He was born in 1745, represented the
city of Dublin in Parliament, was made a privy councilor, and
held the rank of colonel in the Dublin volunteers, and subse
quently in the Dublin militia. He held a command, also, in a
volunteer corps in his native county. The Mountjoy title was
renewed in his person. In 1789 he was created a baron, and
in 1795 was advanced to the dignity of Viscount Mountjoy.
He married, in 1773, the eldest daughter of a Scotch baronet,
Sir William Montgomery, and sister of Anne, Marchioness of
Townsend, by whom he had issue two sons, Luke and Charles
John, and several daughters.

1st. Luke, who died in 1781, in infancy.

2d. Charles John, who succeeded his father, second Viscount
Mountjoy, the late Earl of Blessington, born the 19th July, 1782.

3d. Florinda, who died in 1786, aged twelve years.

4th. Louisa, born in 1775, who married the Right Reverend
Robert Fowler, D.D., Bishop of Dromore, and died in 1848,
aged seventy -three years.

5th. Harriet, born in 1776, died in 1849, aged seventy-three
years.

* Boulter's Letters.

42 NOTICE OF THE EARL OF BLESSINGTON.

6th. Emily, who died in 1788.

7th. Caroline, who died in 1782.

8th. Elizabeth, who died in 1791, aged eight years.

His lordship married, secondly, in 1793, Margaret, the eldest
daughter of Hector Wallis, by whom he had issue,

9th. Margaret, born in 1796, married the Honorable Hcly
Hutchinson, died in 1825.

The father of the late Earl of Blessington, the Right Honor
able Luke Gardiner, Viscount Mountjoy, was an able and ener
getic man. In his zeal for the public weal, he was by no means
unmindful of his own interests. He advocated warmly the
claims of the Roman Catholics ; he was one of the earliest and
most zealous champions of their cause in the Irish Parliament.
He took a very active and prominent part in the suppression of
the rebellion of 1798 ; and on the 5th of June of that disastrous
year, fell at the head of his regiment at the battle of New Ross.

Mr. John Graham, a small farmer, still living on the Mount-
joy Forest estate, in the county of Tyrone, now in his eighty •
sixth year, informs me the first Lord Mountjoy, in the year 1798,
induced him to join his lordship's regiment, and to accompany
him to "VVcxford. He was close to his lordship, at Three Bullet
Gate, at the battle of New Ross, when the king's troops were
attacked by a party of rebels, who lay in wait for them in the
ditches on either side of the road, and commenced a heavy fire,
which threw the troops into complete disorder. The general
who was there in command ordered the troops to retreat ; and
they did retreat, with the exception of Lord Mountjoy and a few
soldiers of his regiment. Graham saw his lordship fall from his
horse mortally wounded, and when he next saw him he was dead,
pierced by several balls and with many pike-wounds also.

Lord Mountjoy enjoyed several sinecures of considerable emol
ument. The two principal ones were hereditary. The carica
turists of his day devoted their sarcastic talents to the illustra
tion of his supposed sinecurist propensities.*

* In one of these productions, inquiry is made " why a gardener is the most
extraordinary man in the world," and the following reasons are assigned in reply
to the qurry :

NOTICE OF THE EARL OF BLESSINGTON. 43

The Right Honorable Charles John Gardiner, second Viscount
and Baron Mount] oy, in the county of Tyrone, at the time of his
father's death in 1798, was in his seventeenth year. He was
educated at Eton and at Christ Church, Oxford, where he ob
tained the honorary degree of Master of Arts.* In 1803 he was
appointed lieutenant colonel of the Tyrone militia, and in 1807
a deputy lieutenant of the county of Tyrone ; in 1809 he was
elected a representative peer for Ireland, and advanced to the
Earldom of Blessington, June 22d, 1816.

The origin of this latter title dates from 1763. Michael,
Archbishop of Armagh (of the family of Boyle, Earl of Cork
and Orrery), in 1665 was constituted Lord High Chancellor of
Ireland, and in 1671 was sworn one of the lords justices. In
1689 his house at Blessington was plundered by the Irish. He
died in 1702, and was buried in St. Patrick's church. His eldest
son, Murrogh, by his second marriage with a daughter of Der-
mod, Earl of Inchiquin, was created Lord Tiscount Blessington,
in the county of Wicklow, by patent, in 1673. He died in 1718,
and was succeeded by his son Charles. One of the daughters
of the preceding Viscount, Anne, in 1696, married Sir William
Stewart, third Viscount Mountjoy, born in 1709. Charles, the
second Viscount Blessington, was member of Parliament for
Blessington in the reigns of (dueen Anne and George the First.
The title became extinct by his lordship's death near Paris,
without issue, in 1733.

The Sir William Stewart, third Viscount Mountjoy above
mentioned, who married a daughter of Murrogh, Viscount Bless
ington, had been advanced to the dignity of an earl by the title
of Earl of Blessington in 1745. f

" Because no man has more business upon earth, and he always chooses good
grounds for what he does. He turns his thyme to the best account. He is master
of the mint, and fingers penny royal ; he raises his celery every year, and it is a
bad year, indeed, that does not bring him in a plum ; he has more boughs than a
minister of state, does not want London pride, rakes a little under the rose, but
would be more sage to keep the Fox from his inclosures, to destroy the rotten
Burroghs, and to avoid the blasts from the North, and not to Foster corruption,
lest a Flood should follow.''

* Among Lord Blessington's contemporaries at Christ Church, Oxford, in 1798,
were the late Lord Dudley, Lord Ebrington, Bishop Heber, &c.

+ Archdall's Peerage, vol. vi.. p. 25G.

44 NOTICE OF THE EARL OF BLESSINGTON.

Few young noblemen ever entered life with greater advan
tages than the young Viscount Mountjoy ; he was possessed of
a fine fortune at the time of his coming of age ; he had received
an excellent education, was possessed of some talents, and a
great deal of shrewdness of observation, and quickness of per
ception in the discernment of talents and ability of any intel
lectual kind. He had a refined taste for literature and arts. In
politics he was a faithful representative of his father's princi
ples. From the commencement of his career to the close of it,
he supported the cause of the Roman Catholics.

The first time that the Viscount Mountjoy spoke in the House
of Lords, after having been elected a representative peer for
Ireland in 1809, was in favor of a motion for the thanks of the
House to Lord Viscount Wellington, and the army under his
command, for the victory of Talavera ; when Lord Mountjoy, in
reply to the Earl of Grosvenor's opposition to the motion, said
that " no general was better skilled in war, none more enlight
ened than Lord Viscount Wellington. The choice of a position
at Talavera reflected lustre on his talents ; the victory was as
brilliant and glorious as any on record. It was entitled to the
unanimous approbation of their lordships, and the eternal grat
itude of Spain and of this country."

His lordship seldom attended his Parliamentary duties, and
very seldom spoke.

On the queen's trial in 1820, in opposing the bill of pains and
penalties, Lord Blessington spoke in vindication of the character
of Mr. Powell (who had been engaged in the Milan commission,
and was assistant solicitor for the bill), " and expressed much
regret that that person had any thing to do with the Milan com
mission."

John Allan Powell, Esq., was an intimate acquaintance of the
Blessingtons.

The young lord's manners, deportment, and demeanor were
all in keeping with the qualities of his mind and the amiability
of his disposition. That calamity was his, than which few
greater misfortunes can befall a young man of large expecta
tions — prided, courted, flattered and beset by evil influences,

NOTICE OF THE EARL OF BLESSINGTON. 45

the loss of a father's care, his counsel and control at the very
age when these advantages are most needful to youth and in
experience.

The taste of all others which the young nobleman, on coming
into his ample fortune, gave himself up to, was for the drama.

He patronized it liberally, and was allured into all the pleas
ures of its society. The green-room and its affairs — the inter
ests, and rivalries, and intrigues of favorite actors and actresses,
the business of private theatricals, the providing of costly dresses
for them, the study of leading parts for their performance (for
his lordship was led to believe his talents were of the first order
for the stage), engaged the attention of the young nobleman too
much, and gave a turn in the direction of self-indulgence to
talents originally good, and tastes naturally inclined to elegance
and refinement.

In 1822, Byron, thus spoke of Lord Blessington as he remem
bered him in early life : " Mountjoy (for the Gardiners are the
lineal race of the famous Irish viceroy* of that ilk) seems very
good-natured, but is much tamed since I recollect him in all the
glory of gems and snuff-boxes, and uniforms and theatricals,
sitting to Strolling, the painter, to be depicted as one of the he
roes of Agincourt."

His father's great fondness for him had contributed in some
manner to the taste he had acquired in very early life for gor
geous ornaments, gaudy dresses, theatrical costumes, and milita
ry uniforms. At the period of the volunteering movement in
Ireland, about 1788 or 1789, when the boy was not above six or
seven years of age, his father had him equipped in a complete
suit of volunteer uniform, and presented him thus to a great
concourse of people with a diminutive sword in the poor child's
hand, on the occasion of a grand review at Newtown Stewart, at
the head of the corps that was commanded by his lordship.

* The famous lord deputy to whom Byron alludes was a fierce marauder and
conquistador in the good old times of raid and of rapine of the good Queen Bess.
Morrison, an English writer on Irish affairs (fol. 43), says, " Lord Mountjoy (the
deputy) never received any to mercy but such as had drawn blood upon their fel
low-rebels. Thus McMahon and McArt both offered to submit, but neither would
be received without the other's head."

46 NOTICE OF THE EARL OF BLESSINGTON.

His lordship had been unfortunately allowed to think, almost
from his boyhood, that no obstacle stood between him and the
gratification of his desires that could not be removed ; arid the
result was what might be expected.

This evil tendency to self-indulgence impeded the growth of
all powers of self-control, and nourished a disposition to unre
strained profusion and extravagance, whenever the gratification
of the senses or allurements of pleasure were in question.

His lordship, in the latter part of 1808 or the beginning of
1809, made the acquaintance of a lady of the name of Browne
(nee Campbell), remarkable for her attractions, and indebted to
them chiefly, if not solely, for her distinction.

The young lord found some difficulties in the way of the res
olution he had formed of marrying this lady, but the obstacles
were removed ; and while means were being taken for their
removal and the marriage that was to follow it, Warwick House
in Worthing was taken by his lordship for her abode, and there
she resided for several months.

Mrs. Browne belonged to a Scotch family of respectability, of
the name of Campbell, and, as I am informed, a brother of hers
represented in Parliament the borough in which his native place
was situated, and was connected with a baronet of the same
name.

While the residence was kept up at Worthing, another place
of abode was occasionally occupied in Portman Square, where
his son Charles John was born. In 1811, his lordship took a
house in Manchester Square, and there his daughter Emilie
Rosalie was born. The following year he removed to Seymour
Place, where he resided till the latter part of 1813.

In 1812, the death of Major Browne (long expected) having
taken place, Lord Mouiitjoy married " Mary Campbell, widow
of Major Browne," as we are informed by the Peerage.

Lord Mountjoy had not long resided in Seymour Place when
he determined on going on the Continent. The health of Lady
Mountjoy must have been at that period impaired. His lord
ship's friend and medical attendant, Mr. Tegart, of Pall Mall,
recommended a young physician of high character to accom-

NOTICE OF THE EARL OF BLESSINGTON.

47

pany the tourists ; and accordingly Dr. Richardson, (an old and
valued friend of the author's) proceeded to France with them.

The circumstances are to be kept in mind of this, marriage,
the impediment to it, the waiting for the removal of it, the ac
complishment of an object ardently desired, without reference
to future consequences, without any regard for public opinion,
or feelings of relatives ; the restlessness of his lordship's rnind,
manifested in changes of abode, and the abandonment of his resi
dence in London for the Continent soon after he had married, arid
had gone to considerable expense in fitting up thatplace of abode.

Lady Mountjoy did not long enjoy the honors of her elevated
rank and new position. She died at St. Germain's, in France,
the 9th of September, 1814. The legitimate issue of this mar
riage was, first, Lady Harriet Anne Frances Gardiner, born the
5th of August, 1812 (who married the Count Alfred D'Orsay the
1st of December, 1829 ; and, secondly, the Hon. Charles Spencer
Cowper, third son of the late Earl Cowper, the 4th of January,
1853, the Count D'Orsay having died the 4th of August, 1 852) ;*
second, the Right Hon. Luke Wellington, Viscount Mountjoy,
born in 1814, who died in 1823, at the age of nine years and
six months.

The children of whom mention is not made in the Peerage
were :

First, Charles John, born in Portman Square, London, the 3d
of February, 1810, now surviving, who retains a small portion
of the Mountjoy Forest estate (the income from which is about
.£600 a year) ; all that remains, with a trifling exception, of the
wreck of that once vast property of the Earl of Blessington.

Second, Emilie Rosalie, commonly called Lady Mary Gardiner,
born in Manchester Square, London, on the 24th of June, 1811
(who married C. White, Esq., and died in Paris without issue
about 1848).

* The Honorable Charles Spencer Cowper is the youngest son of the late Earl
Cowper, who married in 1805 the Honorable Emily Mary Lamb, eldest daughter
of Penniston, first Viscount Melbourne. Lord Cowper died at Putney in June,
1837. His widow married secondly Lord Palmerston, in 1839. The Honorable
Charles Spencer Cowper, born in 1816, filled the office of Secretary of Legation
in Florence.

48 NOTICE OF THE EARL OF BLESSINGTON.

Lord Mountjoy's grief at the loss of his lady was manifested
in a funeral pageant of extraordinary magnificence on the occa
sion of the removal of her remains to England, and from thence
to Ireland. One of the principal rooms in his lordship's Dublin
residence, in Henrietta Street, was fitted up for the mournful
occasion at an enormous cost. The body, placed in a coffin,
sumptuously decorated, had been conveyed to Dublin by a Lon
don undertaker of eminence in the performance of state funer
als, attended by six professional female mourners, suitably at
tired in mourning garments, and was laid out in a spacious room
hung with black cloth, on an elevated catafalque, covered with
a velvet pall of the finest texture, embroidered in gold and sil
ver, which had been purchased in France for the occasion, and
had recently been used at a public funeral in Paris of great pomp
and splendor, that of Marshal Duroc. A large number of wax
tapers were ranged round the catafalque, and the six profes
sional female mutes, during the time the body lay in state, re
mained in attendance in the chamber in becoming attitudes,
admirably regulated ; while the London undertaker, attired in
deep mourning, went through the dismal formality of conducting
the friends of Lord Blessington who presented themselves to the
place where the body was laid out ; and as each person walked
round the catafalque, and then retired, this official, having per
formed the lugubrious duties of master of the funeral solemni
ties, in a low tone expressed a hope that the arrangements were
to the satisfaction of the visitor.

They ought to have been satisfactory ; the cost of them (on
the authority of the late Lady Blessington) was between £3000
and £4000.

The remains of the deceased lady were conveyed with great
pomp to St. Thomas's Church, Marlborough Street, Dublin, and
were deposited in the family vault of Lord Blessington, and are
now mingled with the dust of the latest descendants of the il
lustrious Lord President Mountjoy.

One of the friends of Lord Blessington, who witnessed the
gorgeous funeral spectacle, well acquainted with such pageants,
informs me the magnificence of it was greater than that of any
pimilnr performance of private obsequies he evor saw.

NOTICE OF THE EARL OF BLESSINGTON.

49

But this great exhibition of extravagant grief, and the enor
mous outlay made for its manifestation, was in the bright and
palrny days of Irish landlordism, when potatoes flourished, and
people who had land in Ireland lived like princes. The Scotch
haberdasher who now lords it over a portion of the broad lands
of the Mountjoys will live, however, and bury his dead after a
very different fashion.

The once gorgeous coffin, covered with rich silk velvet and
adorned with gilt mounting, in which the remains of the " Right
Hon. Mary Campbell, Viscountess Mountjoy," were deposited, is
still recognizable by its foreign shape from the other surrounding
receptacles of noble remains above it and beneath it. But the
fine silk velvet of France, and the gilt mountings of the coffin of
the Viscountess Mountjoy, have lost their lustre. Forty years of
sepulchral damp and darkness have proved too much for the costly
efforts of the noble Earl of Blessington to distinguish the remains
of his much-loved lady from those of the adjacent dead.

About the latter part of 1815 Lord Blessington was in Ireland.
He gave a dinner-party at his house in Henrietta Street, which
was attended by several gentlemen, among whom were the
Knight of Kerry, A. Hume, Esq., Thomas Moore, Sir P. C., Bart.,
James Corry, Esq.,* Captain Thomas Jenkins, of the llth Light
Dragoons, and one or two ladies. His lordship, on that occasion,
seemed to have entirely recovered his spirits ; and to one of the
guests, who had not been in the house or the room, then the
scene of great festivity, since the funeral solemnities which have
been referred to had been witnessed by him there less than two
years previously, the change seemed a very remarkable one.
Captain Jenkins left the company at an early hour, to proceed
that evening to England, and parted with his friends, not with
out very apparent feelings of emotion.

* James Corry, Esq., who figures a good deal in Moore's Journals, was a bar
rister, whose bag had never been encumbered with many, I believe I might say
with any, briefs. He was admitted to the bar in 1796. For many years he filled
the office of Secretary to the Trustees of the Linen Manufacture, in their offices
in Lurgan Street. He was a man of wit and humor, assisted in all the private
theatricals of his time, not only in Dublin, but in the provinces, and particularly
those at the abodfc of LoYd Mduntjoy at Rash, near Omagh.

Voi. I.— C

50 NOTICE OF THE EARL OF BLESSINGTON.

Lord Mount] oy did not long remain a widower. His lady died
in September, 1814, and on the 16th of February, 1818, his
lordship was united to a lady of the name of Farmer, who had
become a widow four months previously — in 1817.

The marriage of Lord and Lady Blessington took place by spe
cial license, at the church in Bryanston Square. There were
present Sir \V. P. Campbell, Baronet, of Marchmont, William
Purves, Esq., Robert Power, Esq., and F. S. Pole, Esq.

This work is not intended to be a biography of Lady Blessing-
ton, but to present a faithful account of her literary life and cor
respondence.

From the period of her marriage with the Earl of Blessington,
that intercourse with eminent men and distinguished persons of
various pursuits may be said to date ; and from that period I
profess to deal with it, so far as the information I have obtained,
and the original letters and manuscripts of her ladyship in my
hands, will enable me to do.

Mrs. Farmer had been separated from her husband, Captain
Maurice St. Leger Farmer, of Poplar Hall, county Kildare, for
upward of twelve years, resided much in England, at Sidmanton,
in Hampshire, for several years previously to the termination of
the war, and in the latter part of 1815 had made London her
place of residence, and had a house taken for her in Manchester
Square in 1816.*

Lord Mountjoy's second marriage was entered into after an
acquaintance that had commenced may years previously in Ire
land, and had been long interrupted.

The lady of his love was then twenty-eight years of age, in
the perfection of matured beauty — that bright and radiant beauty
which derives its power not so much from harmony of features

* There, in 1810, I am informed by one of the most eminent medical men in
London, he had met Lord Blessington at dinner. I have likewise been informed
by the late Mr. Arthur Tegart, of Pall Mall, then intimately acquainted with the
parties, that he also had frequently met Lord Blessington at Mrs. Farmer'.s, but
never unaccompanied by some mutual friend or acquaintance. Mr. Tegart, the
intimate and medical attendant of Curran, Grattan, and Ponsonby, a gentleman
most highly respected by all who knew him, and by none more than the writer of
these lines, died in 1829, in his sixty-ninth year.

NOTICE OF THE EARL OF BLESSINGTON. 5^

and symmetry of form, as from the animating influences of in
telligence beaming forth from a mind full of joyous and of kindly
feelings and of brilliant fancies — that kind of vivid loveliness
which is never found where some degree of genius is not. Her
form was exquisitely moulded, with an inclination to fullness ;
but no finer proportions could be imagined ; her movements
were graceful and natural at all times, in her merriest as well
as in her gravest moods.

The peculiar character of Lady Blessington's beauty seemed
to be the entire, exact, and instantaneous correspondence of ev
ery feature, and each separate trait of her countenance, with the
emotion of her mind, which any particular subject of conversa
tion or object of attention might excite. The instant a joyous
thought took possession of her fancy, you saw it transmitted as
if by electrical agency to her glowing features ; you read it in
her sparkling eyes, her laughing lips, her cheerful looks ; you
heard it expressed in her ringing laugh, clear and sweet as the
gay, joy-bell sounds of childhood's merriest tones.

There was a geniality in the warmth of her Irish feelings, an
abandonment of all care, of all apparent consciousness of her
powers of attraction, a glowing sunshine of good humor, and
of good nature in the smiles and laughter, and the sallies of the
wit of this lovely woman in her early and her happy days (those
of her Italian life, especially from 1823 to 1826), such as have
been seldom surpassed in the looks, gesture, or expression of any
other person, however beautiful. The influence of her attrac
tion was of that kind described by the poet :

" When the loveliest expression to features are joined,
By nature's most delicate pencil designed,
And blushes unbidden, and smiles without art,
Speak the softness and feeling that dwell in the heart."
Her voice was ever sweetly modulated and low — " an excellent
thing in woman !" Its tones were always in harmonious concord
with the traits of her expressive features. There was a cordial
ity, a clear, silver-toned hilarity, a correspondence in them, ap
parently with all her sensations, that made her hearers feel
" she spoke to them with every part of her being," and that

52 NOTICE OF THE EARL OF BLESSINGTON.

their communication was with a kindly-hearted, genial person,
of womanly feelings and sentiments. The girlish-like joyous-
ness of her laugh, the genuine gaycty of her heart, of her "petit
risfollatre" the eclats of those Jordan-like outbursts of exuber
ant mirthfulness which she was wont to indulge in — contribu
ted not a little to her power of fascination. All the beauty of La
dy Blessington, without the exquisite sweetness of her voice,
and the witchery of its tones in pleasing or expressing pleasure,
would have been only a secondary attraction.

Mirabeau, in one of his letters, descants on the perfections of a
French lady — unc dame spirituelle, of great powers of attraction :

" "When she talks, she is the art of pleasing personified. Her
eyes, her lips, her words, her gestures, are all prepossessing ;
her language is the language of amiableness ; her accents are
the accents of grace ; she embellishes a trifle ; interests upon
nothing; she softens a contradiction; she takes off the insipid
ity of a compliment by turning it elegantly ; and when she has
a mind, she sharpens and polishes the point of an epigram bet
ter than all the women in the world.

" Her eyes sparkle with pleasure ; the most delightful sallies
flash from her fancy ; in telling a story she is inimitable — the
motions of her body and the accents of her tongue are equally
genteel and easy ; an equable flow of sprightliness keeps her
constantly good-humored and cheerful, and the only objects of
her life are to please and be pleased. Her vivacity may some
times approach to folly, but perhaps it is not in her moments of
folly she is least interesting and agreeable."

Mirabeau goes on enlarging on one particular faculty which
she possessed, and for which she was remarkable, beyond all
comparison with other women — a power of intellectual excita
tion which roused up any spark of talent in the minds of those
around her :

" She will draw wit from a fool ; she strikes with such address
the chords of self-love, that she gives unexpected vigor and agil
ity to fancy, and electrifies a body that appears non-electric."*

* Mirabeau's Letters during his residence in England, translated, in 2 vols.
London, 1832.

NOTICE OF THE EARL OF BLESSINGTON. 53

Lady Blessington might have sat for the portrait of the spir
itual French woman that Mirabeau has sketched with so much
animation !

Soon after their marriage, Lord Blessington took his bride
over to Ireland, to visit his Tyrone estates ; but that was not
the first occasion of the lady's visit to Mountjoy Forest.

The marriage had been so far kept a secret that many of
Lord Blessington's friends were not aware of it at the time of
his arrival in Dublin. He invited some of those with whom he
was most intimately acquainted to a dinner at his. house in
Henrietta Street.*

Some of those first mentioned were only made acquainted with
the recent marriage when Lord Blessington entered the drawing-
room with a lady of extraordinary beauty, and in bridal costume,
leaning on his arm, whom he introduced as Lady Blessington.

Among the guests, there was one gentleman who had been
in that room only four years before, when the walls were hung
in black, and in the centre, on an elevated platform, was place'd
a coffin, with a gorgeous velvet pall, with the remains in it of a
woman, once scarcely surpassed in loveliness by the lady then
present — radiant in beauty, and decked out in rich attire — all in
white, in bridal costume. Stranger events and more striking
contrasts are often to be encountered in brilliant circles and in
noble mansions than are to be met with even in books of fiction.

The Blessingtons proceeded from Dublin to the county of Ty
rone ; but preparations were previously made by his lordship
for the reception of his bride at Mountjoy Forest of a most costly
description.

* The Gardiner family owned the fee simple of the whole street nearly, and
the house No. 10, at the west end, and north side of Henrietta Street, which now
constitutes the Queen's Inns Chambers, formerly held by the Right Honorable
Luke Gardiner, Lord Mountjoy, and subsequently in the possession of the late
Right Honorable Charles John, Earl of Blessington. The house was sold in 1837
to Tristram Kennedy, Esq., for £1700. Immediately in front of Lord Blessing-
ton's abode, the noted Primate Boulter erected his palace, which he makes men
tion of in his letters. The worthy primate wanted only the scholarship and mu
nificence of Wolsey, and the great intellectual powers and political wisdom of
Richelieu, to be a very distinguished temporally-minded churchman, and unspir-
itualized sacerdotal statesman.

54 NOTICE OF THE EARL OF BLESSINGTON.

Speaking of these extravagant arrangements of her husband,
Lady Blessington has observed in one of her works, " The only
complaint I ever have to make of his taste is its too great splen
dor ; a proof of which he gave me when I went to Mountjoy
Forest on my marriage, and found my private sitting-room hung
with crimson Genoa silk velvet, trimmed with gold bullion
fringe, and all the furniture of equal richness — a richness that
was only suited to a state-room in a palace."*

Some of the frieze-coated peasantry of the Mountjoy Forest
estate, still surviving on the wrecked property (that has lately
gone through the Encumbered Estates Court), but now living in
penury in wretched hovels, who remember the great doings in
the house of their lord on the occasion referred to, speak of " the
wonderful doings" of his lordship, and of " the terrible waste of
money," and " the great folly of it," that was witnessed by them.

Folly, indeed, there were abundant proofs of, in the lavish
expenditure, which Lady Blessington attributed to rather too
great a taste for splendor. I consider these things as evidence
of a state of insanity of Lord Blessington, partially developed,
even at the early period referred to, manifested subsequently on
different occasions, but always pointing in one direction. The
acts of Lord Blessington on several occasions, in matters con
nected with both his marriages, it always appeared were the
acts of a man of an unsound judgment, that is to say, of a man
insane on subjects which he had allowed to obtain entire pos
session of his mind, and with respect to objects which he had
devoted all his energies to attain, wholly irrespective of future
consequences.

At the time of Lord Blessington's marriage, his fortune was
embarrassed to some extent, as he imagined, through the mis
management of his agents, but, in point of fact, by his lordship's
own extravagances, and the numerous encumbrances with which
he had already charged his estates.

It was owing, in no small degree, to Lady Blessington's ad
vice, and the active steps she had caused his lordship to take for
the retrieval of his affairs, that his difficulties were to some ex-

* The Idler in France, vol. i., p. 117.

NOTICE OF THE' EARL OF BLESSINGTON. 55

tent diminished, and his rental increased considerably. From
£30,000 a year it had decreased to £23,000 or £24,000 ; but
for two years previously to his departure from England it rath
er exceeded that amount.

I visited several of the surviving tenants of Lord Blessington,
still living on the Mountjoy estate, near Armagh, in March, 1845.
All concurred in one statement, that a better landlord, a kinder
man to the poor, never existed than the late Lord Blessington.
A tenant was never evicted by him ; he never suffered the ten
ants to be distressed by an agent, however much in need he
might stand of money ; he would not suffer them to be pressed
for rent, to be proceeded against, or ejected. Graham, one of
the oldest and most respectable tenants on the estate, says he
is aware of his lordship, at a period when he was in great want
of money, having written to the agent not to press the tenants
too much, even for arrears that had been long due ; that, rather
than they should be dealt harshly with, he would endeavor to
obtain money on mortgage in London ; and Graham adds, the
money his lordship then required was thus obtained by him.
" He took after his father in this respect. He looked on his ten
ants as if he was bou?id to see they suffered no injury at the hands
of any person acting for him on his estate."

The residence of the father of the late Lord Blessington, on
the Mountjoy Forest estate in Tyrone, was on the town land of
Rash, near the " Church of Cappagh," on the opposite side of
the river, about a quarter of a mile from the cottage residence
to which Lord Blessington subsequently removed.

The Dowager Lady Mountjoy resided at Rash for some years
after the death of her husband in 1798.

And here, also, prior to 1814, the late Lord Blessington re
sided when he visited his Tyrone estates ; and about 1807, ex
pended a great deal of money in enlarging the offices, building
an extensive kitchen and wine-cellars, and erecting a spacious
and elegantly decorated theatre, and providing " properties,"
and a suitable wardrobe of magnificent theatrical dresses for it.

The professional actors and actresses were brought down by
his lordship, for the private theatricals at Mountjoy Forest, from

56 NOTICE OF THE EARL OF BLESSINGTON.

Dublin, and some even from London. But there were amateur
performers also, and two of the old tenants remember seeing his
lordship act " some great parts ;" but what they were, or wheth
er of a tragic or a comic nature, they can not say ; they only
know " he was thought a fine actor, and the dresses he wore
were very grand and fine."

The ladies who acted were always actresses from the Dublin
theatres, and during the performances at Rash, his lordship had
them lodged at the house of the school-mistress, in the demesne
near the avenue leading to the house.

The " quality" who came down and remained at Rash during
the performances, which generally lasted for three or four weeks
each year, were entertained with great hospitality by his lord
ship.

The expenditure was profuse in the extreme for their enter
tainment, arid the fitting up and furnishing of places of tempo
rary accommodation for them during their brief sojourn.

The dwelling-house of Rash was more a large cottage, with
some remains of an older structure, than a nobleman's mansion.

Moore, in his Diary, September 1 1th, 1832, alludes to the the
atricals of Lord Blessington, but without specifying time or place.
He refers to a conversation with Corry about the theatricals of
his lordship. " A set of mock resolutions, one of which wras the
following, chiefly leveled at Crampton, who was always imper
fect in his part — * That every gentleman shall be at liberty to
avail himself of the words of the author in case his own inven
tion fails him.' "

These theatricals were at Rash, in Tyrone.

To an inquiry addressed to Sir P. C on the subject of

these theatricals, I received a note informing me he had never
heard of any theatricals in Dublin got up by the Blessingtons,
and that, if there had been any such there, he must have heard
of it, nor was he the person alluded to in the mock resolutions ;
" he had neither hand, act, nor part in theatricals of any descrip
tion." The observation might possibly allude, for any thing he
knew to the contrary, to a brother, who had been dead many
years.

NOTICE OF THE EARL OF BLESSINGTON. 57

The taste for theatricals survived the theatre in Mountjoy
Forest. In June, 1817, Lord Blessington took a leading part in
the public entertainment and testimonial given to John Philip
Kemble on his retirement from the stage. At the meeting
which took place at the Freemasons' Tavern, when a piece of
plate was presented to Kemble, Lord Holland presided ; on his
right hand sat Mr. Kemble, and on his left the Duke of Bedford.
Lords Blessington, Erskine, Mulgrave, Aberdeen, Essex, and
many other noblemen were present ; and among the literary and
artistic celebrities were Moore, Campbell, Rogers, Croker, and
the great French tragedian, Talma. Lord Blessington assisted
also in the well-known Kilkenny theatricals. He took parts
which required to be gorgeously appareled ; on one occasion,
he played the part of the Green Knight, in " Valentine and Orson."

The theatricals at Rash lasted from 1808 to 1812. The first
Lady Blessington was there during one season, and remained
for several months.

The period selected for the theatricals at Rash was usually
the shooting season. But the guests were not confined to sports
men ; the latter came occasionally accompanied by their ladies,
and what with their field-sports and the stage amusements,
there was no dearth of enjoyments and gayety for a few weeks
in a place that all the rest of the year was a dull, solitary, life
less locality, in the midst of a forest some fourscore miles from
the metropolis.

The second Lady Blessington did not visit Mountjoy Forest
during the period of the theatricals. It was the peculiarity of
Lord Blessington to throw himself with complete abandon into
any passion or pursuit that came in his way, and to spare no ex
pense or sacrifice of any kind to obtain, as soon as possible, the
fullest enjoyment that could possibly be derived from it ; and
110 sooner was the object so ardently desired accomplished, the
expense encountered, and the sacrifice made for its attainment,
than the zest for its delight was gone ; other phantoms of pleas
ure were to be pursued, and no sooner grasped than to be relin
quished for some newer objects of desire.

The delights of the chase in Mountjoy Forest, and of the the-

58 NOTICE OF THE EARL OF BLESSINGTON.

atre at Rash, after a few years, became dull, tame, and tiresome
amusements to the young lord. He went to England, contract
ed engagements there which led to his making London princi
pally his place of abode, and Mountjoy Forest and the theatre
at Rash were allowed to go to ruin.

The Dowager Lady Mountjoy had left Rash, and fixed her
abode in Dublin prior to 1807. The house became in a short
time so dilapidated as to be unfit to live in. His lordship gave
directions to have extensive repairs and additions made to a
thatched house of middle size, about a quarter of a mile distant
from Rash. The furniture was removed to this place, which
Lord Blessingtoii called " the Cottage," arid the old home at
Rash was left to go to ruin.

When I visited the place recently, nothing remained but some
vestiges of the kitchen and the cellars. The theatre had utter
ly disappeared, and nothing could be more desolate than the site
of it. The grounds and garden had been broken up, the trees
had been all cut down in the vicinity. Here and there, trunks
and branches, yet unremoved, were lying on the ground. The
stumps of the felled trees, in the midst of the debris of scattered
timber, gave an unpleasant and uncouth aspect to a scene that
had some melancholy interest in it for one who had known the
noble owner of this vast property.

The extent of the estate appears almost incredible ; I am told
its extreme length exceeded ten miles.

But though the theatre erected by Lord Blessington on his es
tate has wholly disappeared, one structure on it exists : a vault
beneath the chancel of the church of Cappagh, on the estate,
which he intended for his tomb, and which, in several notices of
his lordship's death, and some memoirs of Lady Blessington, is
erroneously stated to have been the place of sepulture of his re
mains. \ was misled by those accounts, and visited the vault,
in the expectation of finding his remains there. But no inter
ment had ever taken place there, though it was constructed by
his lordship with the intention above-mentioned ; and at his
death, orders had been sent down from Dublin to have the vault
prepared for his interment : these orders, however, had been

NOTICE OF THE EARL OF BLESSINGTON. 59

countermanded, for what reason I know not, and the remains of
his lordship were deposited in St. Thomas's Church, in Marl-
borough Street, along with the remains of his father.

It has been also erroneously stated that the remains of his
lordship's first wife were deposited in the vault beneath the
chancel of Cappagh Church ; such, however, is not the fact.

In September, 1816, Lord Blessingtoii visited his estate of
Mountjoy Forest. His first wife had been then dead nearly two
years. He brought down some friends of his from Dublin, and
invited others from the neighborhood of his estate to come on a
visit to " the Cottage."

Among the guests, I was informed by tenant farmers on the
estates who have a recollection of these circumstances, were
Mr.«Corry, Major and Mrs. Purvis, Colonel Stewart of Killymoon,
Mrs. Farmer, and also Captain Jenkins.*

The most extravagant expense was gone into in fitting up
and decorating the Cottage for some weeks previously to the
arrival of his lordship and his guests.

The walls were hung with costly drapery. The stairs and
passages were covered with fine baize. Nothing could exceed
the elegance of the decorations, and furnishing of an abode that
was destined only for a residence of a few weeks.

During the sojourn of Lord Blessingtoii and his friends at the
Cottage, several gentlemen of the neighborhood were enter
tained.

Among the visitors was an old clergyman, Father O'Flagher-
ty, parish priest of Cappagh, a simple-minded, good man, who
was the dispenser of the bounty of Lord Blessingtoii among the
poor of the estate, long subsequently to this visit, to a very large
amount.

Lord Blessington had no sec-tarian feelings — it never entered
his mind what the religion of a man was by whom assistance
was needed ; and his worthy Roman Catholic almoner, although
a man by no means highly cultivated, polished in his manners,
or peculiarly happy in his style of epistolary correspondence, en-

* A Capt. Montgomery, of the Navy, a very intimate friend of the Blessingtons,
at some period was on a visit to the Cottage, but the precise date I do not know.

60 NOTICE OF THE EARL OF BLESSINGTON.

joyed the full confidence and strong regard of Lord Blessington,
and also of his lady.

Lady Blessington, on her subsequent visit, was the means of
procuring for her great favorite, Father O'Flagherty, a donation
from his lordship that enabled the good padre either to repair
or rebuild the Catholic place of worship of his parish. He con
tinued to correspond with the Blessingtons when they resided
in London, and for some time while they were on the Continent,
and the epistles of the good old man were very great literary
curiosities.

In 1823, Lord Blessington, unaccompanied by Lady Blessing-
ton, visited his Tyrone estates ; he came to the Cottage accom
panied by Colonel Stewart of Killymoon.

In 1825, his lordship again and for the last time visited his
Tyrone estates. He was accompanied then by General Count
D'Orsay, the father of the Count Alfred D'Orsay , and also by a
young French nobleman, the Count Leon.

From some cause or other, Lady Blessington appeared to have
formed a strong antipathy, on the occasion of her last visit, to
Mountjoy Forest as a place of residence even for a few weeks.
She prevailed on Lord Blessington to return to London, perhaps
earlier than he had intended, and expressed her determination
never again to return to Mountjoy Forest, if she could help it.

After a few weeks spent in Tyrone, the Blessingtons returned
to London. The new-married lady, having exchanged her abode
in Manchester Square for the noble mansion in St. James's
Square, found herself suddenly, as if by the magic wand of an
enchanter, surrounded by luxuries, gorgeous furniture, glittering
ornaments, and pomp and state almost regal. The transition
was at once from seclusion arid privacy, a moderate establish
ment, and inexpensive mode of life, into brilliant society, mag
nificence, and splendor — to a condition, in short, little inferior to
that of any lady in the land.

The eclat of the beauty of Lady Blessington and of her re
markable mental qualities, of the rare gifts and graces with
which she was so richly endowed, was soon extensively diffused
over the metropolis.

NOTICE OF THE EARL OF BLESSINGTON. (jl

Moore, in his Diary of April, 1822, mentions visiting the Bless-
ingtons in London at their mansion in St. James's Square.
The fifth of the month following, he says he called, with Wash
ington Irving, at Lady Blessington's, " who is growing very ab
surd ! ' I have felt very melancholy and ill all this day,' she
said. ' Why is that ?' I asked. ' Don't you know ?' ' No.' ' It
is the anniversary of my poor Napoleon's death.' "

Any one acquainted with Lady Blessington will perceive in
this remark a great want of knowledge of her character and opin
ions, and will not fail to discover in her observation evidences
of that peculiar turn for grave irony which was one of her char
acteristics. I have seldom met a literary person so entirely free
from all affectation of sentimentality as Lady Blessington.

In the new scenes of splendor and brilliancy which her lady
ship had been introduced into on her marriage with Lord Bless
ington, she seemed as if it was her own proper atmosphere, to
which she had been accustomed from infancy, in which she now
lived and moved.

Greatness and magnificence were not thrust upon her — she
seemed born to them. In all positions she had the great art of
being ever perfectly at home. There was a naturalness in her
demeanor, a grace and gentleness in her mind and manner — a
certain kindliness of disposition and absence of all affectation —
a noble frankness about her, which left her in all circles at her
ease — sure of pleasing, and easily amused by agreeable and
clever people.

In 1818, when Lady Blessington was launched into fashiona
ble life, and all at once took her place, if not at the head of it,
at least among the foremost people in it, she was twenty-eight
years of age.

For three years, her mansion in St. James's Square, nightly
thronged by men of distinction, was the centre of social and
literary enjoyments of the highest order in London. Holland
House had its attractions for the graver spirits of the times, but
there was no lack of statesmen, sages, scholars, and politicians
at the conversaziones of Lady Blessington.

Charleville House, too, had its charms for well-established au-

62 NOTICE OF THE EARL OF BLESSINGTON.

thors — for blue-stocking ladies especially, of all lines of author
ship — for distinguished artists and noble amateurs, for foreign
ministers and their attaches.

But Lady Blessington had certain advantages over all Aspa-
sian competitors in society — she was young and beautiful, witty,
graceful, and good-humored ; and these advantages told with
singular effect in the salon ; they tended largely to establish her
influence in society, and to acquire for her conversations in it a
character it might never otherwise have obtained.

The Blessingtons' splendid mansion in St. James's Square in
a short time became the rendezvous of the elite of London ce
lebrities of all kinds of distinction ; the first literati, statesmen,
artists, eminent men of all professions, in a short time became
habitual visitors at the abode of the new-married lord and lady.

Among the distinguished foreigners who visited the Blessing-
tons in St. James's Square in the latter part of 1821 or the
commencement of 1822, were the Count de Grammont (the pres
ent Due de Guiche) and his brother-in-law, a young Frenchman
of remarkable symmetry of form and comeliness of face, and of
address and manners singularly prepossessing, the Count Alfred
D'Orsay, then in the prime of life, highly gifted, and of varied
accomplishments, truly answering Byron's designation of him, a
"cupidon dechaine." The count's sojourn in London at that time
was short ; but the knowledge he seems to have gained of its
society, if the account given of his diary be true, must have been
considerable. This was the beginning of an intimate acquaint
ance with the Blessingtons, one in many respects of great mo
ment to his lordship and to others — an intimacy which termi
nated only in death.*

Two royal English dukes condescended, not unfrequently, to
do homage at the new shrine of Irish beauty and intellect in St.
James's Square. Canning, Lord Castlcreagh, the Marquis of
Lansdowne, and Lords Palmerston and Russell, Burdett and
Brougham, Scarlett and Jekyll, Erskine, and many other celeb
rities, paid their devoirs there. Whig and Tory politicians and

* This acquaintance did not commence, as it has been generally asserted, by
accident, in a French hotel, when the Blessingtons were on their way to Italy.

DEPARTURE OF THE BLESSINGTONS FROM LONDON. 53

lawyers, forgetful of their party feuds and professional rivalries
for the nonce, came there as gentle pilgrims. Kemble and Mat
thews, Lawrence and Wilkie — eminent divines too, Dr. Parr and
others. Rogers, Moore, and Luttrel were among the votaries
who paid their vows in visits there, not angel-like, for theirs
were neither " few nor far between." But among all the dis
tinguished persons who visited Lady Blessington, none were
more devoues in their attachment, or ardent in their admiration
of the talents and traits, intellectual and personal, of the fair
lady, than the late Earl Grey.

CHAPTER II.

DEPARTURE OF THE BLESSINGTONS FROM LONDON ON A CON
TINENTAL TOUR, SEPTEMBER, 1822.

THE love of change, of travel, of excitement — the necessity
for distraction, for novelty, and new effects, not only in scenery,
but in society, seems to have led to Lord Blessingtori's determ
ination to abandon his magnificent abode in St. James's Square
at a time when nothing appeared wanting that wealth, beauty,
and brilliant society could supply, to render that abode every
thing that could be desired by those who think such necessa
ries all that can be desirable to make homes happy.

But Lord Blessington, although yet a young man, had drained
his cup of pleasure and enjoyments of every kind to the dregs,
and the taste of the draught that remained on his palate re
quired new cordials, and other stimulants of increasing strength
continually, to keep down the loathing he already felt for all the
allurements of fashion, the follies of the day, the foil and tinsel
glories of the green-roorn, and the life behind the scenes of the
drama, arid of that other theatre of society, with its tableaux
vivants, arid its varied performances by the real actors on the
stage of aristocratic life. Lord Blessington was palled and sa
tiated with pleasure, and no kind of eclat or of distinction in
English society had now any charm for him. And yet this
young nobleman, thus early blaze and exhausted, prematurely

64 DEPARTURE OF THE BLESSINGTONS FROM LONDON.

impaired in mental energies, was fitted for better things, and
was naturally amiable, and possessed many eminent qualities
which might have rendered him, under other circumstances of
education and position, a most estimable and a very useful man
to his country and to society.

The 22d of August, 1822, the Blessingtons, accompanied by
Miss Mary Ann Power, the youngest sister of Lady Blessington,
and Mr. Charles James Matthews, the only son of the celebrated
comedian, set out on a Continental tour, and made their arrange
ments for an intended sojourn of some years in the south of
Europe.

Miss Mary Ann Power was then about one-and-twenty, bear
ing no resemblance to her sister in face or form, but, neverthe
less, far from unattractive. She was remarkably slight, rather
of low stature, of small, regular features, good complexion, light
brown hair, always tastefully arranged ; an extremely pretty
and girlish-looking young lady, with bluish laughing eyes, and
altogether a piquant expression of countenance, une petite ?nignon,
pleasingly original and naive in her modes of thinking and act
ing, always courted and complimented in society, and coquetted
with by gentlemen of a certain age, by humorists in single
blessedness, especially like Gell, and by old married bachelors
like Lander and the Duke Laval de Montmorency.

Charles Matthews could hardly then have been twenty years
of age. He had been intended for the profession of an archi
tect, and was articled to a person of eminence in London in that
profession. Lord Blessington had kindly offered his father to
take charge of the young man, and to afford him every facility
of pursuing his professional studies in Italy. That offer was
accepted, and for upward of two years young Matthews remain
ed with the Blessingtons on the Continent, and was no slight
acquisition to their party. A merrier man within the limits of
becoming mirth it would be difficult to And. He was an ad
mirable mimic, had a marvelous facility in catching peculiari
ties of manners, picking up the different dialects of the several
parts of Italy he passed through. But with all his comic tal
ents, love of fun and frolic, ludicrous fancies, and overflowing

DEPARTURE OF THE BLESSINGTONS FROM LONDON. 65

gayety of heart, he never ceased to be a gentleman, and to act
and feel like a man well-bred, well-disposed, and well-principled.

The writer's reminiscences of Charles Matthews are of an old
date — upward of thirty years ; but they are of too pleasurable a
kind to be easily effaced.

In her journals Lady Blessington makes frequent allusions to
her " happy home" in St. James's Square, and at the moment
of departure, of " the almost wish" she was not going from it ;
and some dismal forebodings take the form of exclamations :
" What changes ! what dangers may come before I again sleep
beneath its roof!" Many changes, indeed, came before she re
turned from the Continent. She never beheld her husband be
neath that roof again !

Lord Blessington's preparations in Paris for the approaching
touring campaign in Italy were of a very formidable description.
The commissariat department (including the culinary) was am
ply provided for ; it could boast of a battcrie de cuisine on a most
extensive scale, which had served an entire club, and a cook
who had stood fire in the kitchen of an emperor. No Irish no
bleman, probably, and certainly no Irish king, ever set out on
his travels with such a retinue of servants, with so many vehi
cles and appliances of all kinds to ease, comfort, and luxurious
enjoyment in travel.

Byron's traveling equipage, according to Medwin, when he
arrived in Florence, accompanied by Rogers, consisted of seven
servants, five carriages, five horses, a monkey, a bull-dog, and
a mastiff", nine live cats, three pea-fowls, and some hens ; his
luggage, or what Caesar would call " his impedimenta," consist
ed of '; a very large library of modern books, a vast quantity of
furniture, "with trunks and portmanteaus of apparel — of course
to correspond to the other parts of the equipage.

Lord Blessington set out with an abundance of" impediments ;"
but in his live-stock he had no bull-dogs, mastifis, monkeys, cats,
pea-fowls, or hens.

On her arrival in Paris, Lady Blessington mentions in her
diary receiving a visit from her old friend the Baron Denon, and
finding " all her French acquaintances charmed to see her."

66 DEPARTURE OF THE BLESSINGTONS FROM LONDON.

Mention is made of two previous visits of hers to Paris. Her
former sojourn there must have been of some duration, and
previously to her second marriage ; in her letters of this period
we find a familiarity with French idiom, and the conversational
terms of French society, which could only have been acquired
by a good deal of intercourse with French people in their own
country.

In her Italian journal of the 31st of August, 1822, she speaks
of her " old friend the baron," " a most amusing man," " a com
pound of savant and petit maitrc, one moment descanting on
Egyptian antiquities, and the next passing eulogiums on the joli
chapcau, or robe of his female visitors, who seems equally at
home in detailing the perfections of a mummy, or in describing
' le mignon pied d' une charmante femme,' and not unfrequent-
ly turns from exhibiting some morceau d' antiquite bien remarqua-
ble to display a cast of the exquisite head of Pauline Borghese."*

September 1st, the diary opens with the words "my birth
day." Her ladyship could be sad and sentimental, but is obliged
to smile and seem joyful at receiving the congratulations of her
friends that she had added another year to her age, and at a
period of woman's life, too, when one had passed thirty.

During the short sojourn of the Blessingtons in Paris, Tom
Moore was frequently with them at a restaurateur's : Lady
Blessington descended " La Montagne Russe ;" but then Tom
Moore often visited the spot, and greatly enjoyed her descent,
and it was pleasant to observe with what a true zest he entered
into every scheme of amusement, though the buoyancy of his
spirits and resources of his mind rendered him so independent
of such means of passing time.f Lady Blessington descants on
the agreeable excitement of the extreme velocity of this loco
motive amusement ; but we need not marvel at Tom Moore's
true zest in entering into it, accompanied with her ladyship,
when we find Dr. Johnson dwelling on the enjoyment of travel
ing fast in a post-chaise with a pretty woman among the great
pleasures of life.

Perhaps it was one of those rapid journeys on the " Montague

* The Idler in Italy, Par. ed., 1839, p. 8. f Ibid., p. 28.

DEPARTURE OF THE BLESSINGTONS FROM LONDON. 57

Russe," that Moore's conversation reminded her ladyship " of
the evolutions of some bird of gorgeous plumage, each varied
hue of which becomes visible as he carelessly sports in the air.''

Xln her observations on art, literature, and society, there are
ample evidences of originality of mind, of true feeling, of refined
taste, and an intimate acquaintance with the light literature of
France and Italy. Many of her passing remarks have the merit
of those short and memorable sayings which get the name of
maxims and apothegms. Speaking of the Louvre, which she
had visited " at least thirty times," and that was her third visit
to Paris, she found, " like fine music, fine sculptures and fine
pictures gain by long acquaintance."

" There is something that stirs the soul and elevates the feel
ings in gazing on those glorious productions of master minds,
where genius has left its ineffaceable impress to bear witness
to posterity of its achievements."

The excellence of art, like every thing that is exquisite in
workmanship and spiritual in conception, is to be appreciated
by an intuitive sense, that gives a true perception of the sub
lime and beautiful ; " it is to be felt, and not reasoned upon."

In the galleries of the Louvre, she sickens of the " cant of
criticism," she turns away from the connoisseurs, " to meditate in
silence on what others can talk about, but can not comprehend."

" Here Claude Lorraine seems to have imprisoned on canvas
the golden sunshine in which he bathes his landscapes. There
Raphael makes us, though stern Protestants, worship a Madonna
and child, such is the innocence, sweetness, and beauty with
which he has imbued his subjects."

Poor Lady Blessington's " stern Protestantism" is lugged in,
head and shoulders, into a criticism which really stood in no
need of the intrusion of any religious opinions. Her faith in
Raphael's perfections required no apology. In qualifying her
admiration of the exquisite portraiture of innocence, sweetness,
and beauty of the Virgin and child, it must have been rather
painful to her (not a Protestant) to have to descend to the cant
of criticism, which was so justly odious to her.

"While the fair countess was absorbed in art, and occupied

68 DEPARTURE OF THE BLESSINGTONS FROM LONDON.

with the sublime and beautiful, in the most glorious works of
the ancient masters in the Louvre and the gallery of Versailles,
my lord was securing the services of the culinary artist of great
celebrity, already referred to, who had been the cook of an em
peror, and providing a very extensive batterie dc cuisine — a com
plete equipage of a cooking kind, en ambulance, for their Italian
tour.

After a sojourn of twelve days in Paris, the Blessingtons and
their party set out for Switzerland.

The customary pilgrimages were made to Ferney, the many
shrines at the base of Mount Jura, on the borders of the Lake
of Geneva, the birth-place and haunts of Rousseau, the homes
for a time of Gibbon, Shelley, Byron, and De Stael, then the
place of abode of John Philip Kemble, and a little later, his
place of burial in the cemetery of Lausanne. Several days were
spent in visiting monuments and other marvels of Lyons, Vienne,
Grenoble, Valence, Orange, and on the 20th of November they
arrived at Avignon. Here they remained till the 12th of Feb
ruary, 1823, mixing a good deal in the fashionable circles of the
town and its environs, making frequent excursions to the cele
brated fountain of Vanclure, the site of the chateau of Laura,
and visiting that of her tomb, in the ruins of the Church of the
Cordeliers, those of the Palace of the Popes, and the Inquisition
with all its horrors. Lady Blessington speaks of the repug
nance, the feelings of " a native of dear, free, happy England,"
at the sight of such a place, and in the heat of her abhorrence
of the crimes committed in it, fancies herself a native of England.

In her diary of the 20th of December, Lady Blessington says,
"Spent last evening at Madame de C.'s; met there the Due

and Duchess de C G . Madame was dame d'honneur

to Marie Louise, and has all the air and manner of one accus
tomed to find herself at home in a court."

The persons indicated by the initials C G were the

Due and Duchesse de Caderousse Grammont, who then resided
in their chateau in. the vicinity of Avignon. But no mention is

J t"3

made of any other member of their family in the Avignon so
ciety of the Blessingtons, though there was one who was an ob
ject of some interest to the party.

BYRON AND THE BLESSINGTONS AT GENOA. 69

After a prolonged stay of two months and upward at Avig
non, Lady Blessingtoii says in her diary, " It is strange how soon
one becomes habituated to a place. I really feel as much at
home at Avignon as if I had spent years there."

On the 12th of February, 1823, Lady Blessingtoii and her
party, increased by a young Frenchman of a noble family, pre
viously known in England, lately met with in Paris, and subse
quently at Valence and Avignon, now a compagnon de voyage,
set out for Italy, via Marseilles, Toulon, and Nice, and on the
31st of March they arrived at Genoa.

In the diary of that day, the uppermost thought in Lady Bless-
ingtori's mind is thus recorded : " And am I, indeed, in the same
town with Byron ! And to-morrow I may perhaps behold him !"

There are two works of Lady Blessington's, " the Idler in It
aly"* and " the Idler in France,"! in which an account is given
of her tours, and her observations on the society, manners, sce
nery, and marvels of all kinds of the several places she visited
and sojourned in.

CHAPTER III.

BYRON AXD THE BLESSIXGTONS AT GENOA.

THE 1st of April, 1823, Lady Blessington's strong desire was
gratified — she saw Byron. But the lady was disappointed, and
there is reason to believe that the lord, always indisposed abroad
to make new acquaintances with his countrymen or women,
was on the occasion of this interview taken by surprise, and not
so highly gratified by it as might have been expected, when the

* The Idler in Italy, in 3 vols. 8vo, was published in 1839, and is descriptive of
her visit to Paris, and sojourn there from the first of September to the 12th of the
same month, 1822 ; her route through Switzerland, and extensive tour in Italy, ex
tended over a period of five years, the greater portion of which was spent in Naples.

t The Idler in France, subsequently published, is descriptive of her residence
in Paris for a period of two years and a half, from the autumn of 1828 to the end
of November, 1830, when she returned to England.

In her manuscript memoranda and commonplace books there are also frequent
references to persons whom she had met with in her travels, and observations on
places she had visited, several of which are almost identical with passages in
"the Idlers."

70 BYRON AND THE BLESSINGTONS AT GENOA.

agrcmens and personal attractions of the lady are taken into con
sideration.

Lady Blessington's expression of disappointment has a tincture
of asperity in it which is seldom, indeed, to be found in her ob
servations. There are very evident appearances of annoyance
of some kind or another in the account given by her of this in
terview, occasioned either by the reception given her by Byron,
or at some eccentricity, or absence of mind, that was unexpect
ed, or apparent want of homage on his part to her beauty or
talents on this occasion, to which custom had habituated her.

It must also be observed, that the interview with her ladyship
is described as having been sought by Lord Byron. It is more
than probable, however, a little ruse was practiced on his lord
ship to obtain it. It is stated by one who has a good knowledge
of all the circumstances of this visit, that a rainy forenoon was
selected for the drive to Byron's villa ; that shelter was neces
sitated, and that necessity furnished a plea for a visit which
would not have been without some awkwardness under other
circumstances. Lord Blessington, having been admitted at once
on presenting himself at Byron's door, was on the point of tak
ing his departure, apologizing for the briefness of the visit on
account of Lady Blessington being left in an open carriage in
the court-yard, the rain then falling, when Byron immediately
insisted on descending with Lord Blessington, and conducting
her ladyship into his house.

" When we arrived," says Lady Blessington, " at the gate of
the court-yard of the Casa Saluzzo, in the village of Albano,*
where he resides, Lord Blessington and a gentleman of our party
left the carriage and sent in their names. f They were admit
ted immediately, and experienced a very cordial reception from
Lord Byron, who expressed himself delighted to see his old ac
quaintance. Byron requested to be presented to me, which led
to Lord Blessington's avowing that I was in the carriage at the
gate, with my sister. Byron immediately hurried out into the

* About a mile and a half from Genoa. — R. R. M.

t The gentleman's name will be found in a letter of Byron to Moore, dated 2d
April, 1823.

BYRON AND THE BLESSINGTONS AT GENOA. 71

court, and I, who heard the sound of steps, looked through the
gate, and beheld him approaching quickly toward the carriage
without his hat, and considerably in advance of the other two
gentlemen."

The visit was a long one ; and many questions were asked
about old friends and acquaintances. Lady Blessington says
Byron expressed warmly, at their departure, the pleasure which
the visit had afforded him — and she doubted not his sincerity;
not that she would arrogate any merit in her party to account
for his satisfaction, but simply because she could perceive that
Byron liked to hear news of his old associates, and to pass them
en revue, pronouncing sarcasms on each as he turned up in con
versation.

In a previous notice of this interview, which bears some in
ternal evidence of having been written long after the period it
refers to, lamenting over the disappointment she felt at finding
her beau ideal of a poet by no means realized, her ladyship ob
serves : " "Well, I never will allow myself to form an ideal of
any person I desire to see, for disappointment never fails to en
sue."

Byron, she admits, had more than usual personal attractions,
" but his appearance nevertheless had fallen short of her expect
ations." There is no commendation, however, without a con
comitant effort at depreciation. For example, her ladyship ob
serves, " His laugh is musical, but he rarely indulged in it dur
ing our interview ; and when he did, it was quickly followed
by a graver aspect, as if he liked not this exhibition of hilarity.
"Were I asked to point out the prominent defect of Byron's man
ner, I should pronounce it to be a flippancy incompatible with
the notion we attach to the author of Childe Harold and Man
fred, and a want of self-possession, and dignity that ought to
characterize a man of birth and genius. Notwithstanding this
defect, his manners are very fascinating — more so, perhaps, than
if they were dignified ; but he is too gay, too flippant for a
poet."*

Lady Blessington was accompanied on this occasion by her

* Idler in Italy, p. 392.

72 BYRON AND THE BLESSINGTONS AT GENOA.

sister, Miss Mary Anne Power, now Comtesse de St. Marsault.
Byron, in a letter to Moore, dated April 2d, 1823, thus refers to
this interview :

"Your other allies, whom I have found very agreeable per
sonages, are Milor Blessington and epouse, traveling with a very
handsome companion in the shape of a 'French count' (to use
Farquhar's phrase in the Beaux Stratagem), who has all the air
of a Cupidon dechaine, and is one of the few specimens I have
seen of our ideal of a Frenchman before the Revolution, an old
friend with a new face, upon whose like I never thought that
we should look again. Miladi seems highly literary, to which,
and your honor's acquaintance with the family, I attribute the
pleasure of having seen them. She is also very pretty, even in
a morning — a species of beauty on which the sun of Italy does
not shine so frequently as the chandelier. Certainly English
women wear better than their Continental neighbors of the same
sex. Mountjoy seems very good-natured, but is much tamed since
I recollect him in all the glory of gems and snuff-boxes, and uni
form, and theatricals, and speeches in our house — ' I mean of
Peers' — I must refer you to Pope, whom you don't read and
won't appreciate, for that quotation (which you must allow to
be poetical) — and sitting to Stroelling, the painter (do you re
member our visit, with Leckie, to the German ?), to be depicted
as one of the heroes of Agincourt, ' with his long sword, saddle,
bridle, Whak fal de," &c.} &c.

We thus find, from the letter of Byron to his friend Moore,
that the Blessingtons were accompanied by the Count Alfred
d'Orsay in their visit to his lordship, and that he was one of the
party on their arrival and at their departure from Genoa.

It is probable that the arrangements for the count's journey
to Italy with the Blessingtons had been made in Paris, though
he did not accompany them from that city, but joined them first
at Valence on the Rhone, and subsequently at Avignon.

D'Orsay, who had been attached to the French army of the
pretended expedition against Spain, abandoned his profession
in an evil hour for the career of a mere man of pleasure and of
fashion.

BYRON AND THE BLESSINGTONS AT GENOA. 73

Byron and the Blessingtons continued to live on the most in
timate terms, we are told by Lady Blessington, during the stay
of the latter at Genoa ; and that intimacy had such a happy in
fluence on the author of Childe Harold, that he began to aban
don his misanthropy. On the other hand, I am assured by the
Marquise de Boissy, formerly Countess of Guiccioli, that the
number of visits of Byron to Lady Blessington during the entire
period of her sojourn in Genoa did not exceed five or six at the
utmost, and that Byron was by no means disposed to. afford the
opportunities that he believed were sought, to enable a lady of
a literary turn to write about him. But D'Orsay, she adds, at
the first interview, had struck Byron as a person of considerable
talents and wonderful acquirements for a man of his age and
former pursuits. " Byron from the first liked D'Orsay ; he was
clever, original, unpretending ; he affected to be nothing that he
was not."

Byron sat for his portrait to D'Orsay, that portrait which sub
sequently appeared in the New Monthly Magazine, and after
ward as a frontispiece of her ladyship's work, "Conversations
with Lord Byron."

His lordship suffered Lady Blessington to lecture him in prose,
and, what was worse, in verse. He endeavored to persuade
Lord Blessington to prolong his stay in Genoa, and to take a
residence adjoining his own named " II Paradiso." And a ru
mor of his intention to take the place for himself, and some
good-natured friend observing, " II diavolo e ancora entrato in
Paradiso," his lordship wrote the following lines :

Beneath Blessington's eyes

The reclaimed Paradise
Should be free as the former from evil ;

But if the new Eve

For an apple should grieve,
What mortal would not play the devil 1

But the original conceit was not in poetry.

Lady Blessington informed rne that, 011 the occasion of a mask
ed ball to be given in Genoa, Byron stated his intention of going
there, and asked her ladyship to accompany him : en badinant

VOL. !.— D

74 BYRON AND THE BLESSINGTONS AT GENOA.

about the character she was to go in, some one had suggested
that of Eve — Byron said, " As some one must play the devil, I
will do it."

Shortly before her departure from Genoa, Lady Blessington
requested Byron to write some lines in her album, and, accord
ingly, he composed the following stanzas for her :

TO THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON.

1.
You have ask'd for a verse : the request

In a rhymer 'twere strange to deny ;
But my Hippocrene was but my breast,
And ray feelings (its fountain) are dry.

2
Were I now as I was, I had sung

What Lawrence has painted so well ;
But the strain would expire on my tongue,

And the theme is too soft for my shell.

3.
I am ashes where once I was fire,

And the bard in my bosom is dead ;
What I loved I now merely admire,

And my heart is as gray as my head.

4.

My life is not dated by years —

There are moments which act au a plow ;

And there is not a furrow appears,
But is deep in my soul as my brow.

5.

Let the young and the brilliant aspire

To sing what I gaze on in vain ;
For sorrow has torn from my lyre

The string which was worthy the strain.

Moore speaks of the happy influence of Lady Blessington's
society over the mind of Byron :

" One of the most important services conferred upon Lord By
ron by Lady Blessington during this intimacy was that half re
viving of his old regard for his wife, and the check which she
contrived to place upon the composition of Don Juan, and upon

BYRON AND THE BLESSINGTONS AT GENOA. 75

the continuation of its most glaring immoralities. He spoke of
Ada ; her mother, he said, ' has feasted on the smiles of her in
fancy and growth, but the tears of her maturity shall be mine.'
Lady Blessington told him that if he so loved his child, he should
never write a line that could bring a blush of shame to her cheek,
or a sorrowing tear to her eye ; and he said, ' You are right ; 1
never recollected this. I am jealously tenacious of the undi
vided sympathy of my daughter ; and that work (Don Juan),
written to beguile hours of tristesse and wretchedness, is well
calculated to loosen my hold on her affections. I will write no
more of it — would that I had never written a line.' In this
gentler mind, with old loves, old times, and the tenderest love
that human heart can know, all conducing to soothe his pride
and his dislike of Lady Byron, he learned that a near friend of
her ladyship was in Genoa, and he requested Lady Blessington
to procure for him, through this friend, a portrait of his wife.
He had heard that Lady Byron feared he was about to come to
England for the purpose of claiming his child. In requesting
the portrait and in refuting the report, he addressed the follow
ing letter to Lady Blessington :

" ' May 3, 1623.

" ' DEAR LADY BLESSINGTON, — My request would be for a copy of the min
iature of Lady B. which I have seen in possession of the late Lady Noel, as
I have no picture, or indeed memorial of any kind of Lady B., as all her let
ters were in her own possession before I left England, and we have had no
correspondence since — at least on her part. My message with regard to the
infant is simply to this effect, that in the event of any accident occurring to
the mother, and mv remaining the survivor, it would be my wish to have her
plans carried into effect, both with regard to the education of the child, and
the person or persons under whose care Lady B. might be desirous that she
should be placed. It is not my intention to interfere with her in any way on
the subject during her life ; and I presume that it would be some consolation
to her to know (if she is in ill health, as I am given to understand), that in no
case would any thing be done, as far as I am concerned, but in strict con
formity with Lady B.'s own wishes and intentions, left in what manner she
thought proper. Believe me, dear Lady B., your obliged,' " &c.

At length, in the early part of June, 1823, the Blessmgtons
took their departure from Genoa, and Moore tells us how the
separation affected Byron :

76 BYRON AND THE BLESSINGTONS AT GENOA.

" On the evening before the departure of his friends, Lord and
Lady Blessington, from Genoa, he called upon them for the pur
pose of taking leave, and sat conversing for some time. He was
evidently in low spirits, and after expressing his regret that they
should leave Genoa before his own time of sailing, proceeded to
speak of his own intended voyage in a tone full of despondence.
' Here,' said he, * we are all now together ; but when, and
where, shall we meet again ? I have a sort of boding that we
see each other for the last time ; as something tells me I shall
never again return from Greece.' Having continued a little
longer in this melancholy strain, he leaned his head upon the
arm of the sofa on which they were seated, and, bursting into
tears, wept for some minutes with uncontrollable feeling.
Though he had been talking only with Lady Blessington, all
who were present in the room observed, and were affected by,
his emotion, while he himself, apparently ashamed of his weak
ness, endeavored to turn off attention from it by some ironical
remark, spoken with a sort of hysterical laugh, upon the effects
of nervousness. He had, previous to this conversation, present
ed to each of the party some little farewell gift — a book to one,
a print from his bust by Bartolini to another, and to Lady Bless
ington a copy of his Armenian Grammar, which had some man
uscript remarks of his own on. the leaves. In now parting with
her, having begged, as a memorial, some trifle which she had
worn, the lady gave him one of her rings ; in return for which
he took a pin from his breast, containing a small cameo of Napo
leon, which he said had long been his companion, and presented
it to her ladyship. The next day Lady Blessington received
from him the following note :

" « Albaro, Juno 2, 1823.

" 'My DEAR LADY BLESSINGTON, — I am superstitious, and have recollected
that memorials with a point are of less fortunate augury : I will, therefore,
request you to accept, instead of the pin, the inclosed chain, which is of so
slight a value that you need not hesitate. As you wished for something worn,
I can only say that it has been worn oftcner and longer than the other. It is
of Venetian manufacture, and the only peculiarity about it is that it could only
be obtained at or from Venice. At Genoa they have none of the same kind.
I also inclose a rintr, which I would wish Alfred to keep; it is too large to

BYRON AND THE BLESS1NGTONS AT GENOA. 77

wear ; but it is formed of lava, and so far adapted to the fire of his years and
character. You will perhaps have the goodness to acknowledge the receipt
of this note, and send back the pin (for good luck's sake), which I shall value
much more for having been a night in your custody.

" ' Ever faithfully your obliged, &c.
" 'P.S. — I hope your nerves are well to-day, and will continue to flourish.' "

Some fourteen years only had elapsed since that criticism ap
peared in the Edinburgh Review on his (Byron's) juvenile po
ems, which began with these words : " The poesy of this young-
lord belongs to the class which neither gods nor men are said
to tolerate."

And in the interval between the date of the publication of
"English Bards and Scotch Reviewers" in 1809, and that of
the visit of the Blessingtons to Genoa in June, 1823, and his
departure for Greece a little later, the poesy of the young lord
manifested to the world that it belonged to a class which all the
powers of criticism could not decry or crush. A few months
only had elapsed since Byron parted with Lady Blessington and
bade adieu to Italy, and the career of the poet was near its
close in Greece.

In 1828, again at Genoa, Lady Blessington, alluding to Byron's
death, writes : "I sat on the chair where I had formerly been
seated next him ; looked from the window whence he had
pointed out a beautiful view ; and listened to Mr. Barry's graph
ic description of the scene, when, becalmed in the Gulf of Genoa,
the day he sailed for Greece, he returned and walked through
the rooms of his deserted dwelling, filled with melancholy fore
bodings. He had hoped to have found in it her whom he was
destined never more to behold — that fair and young Italian lady,
the Contessa Guiccioli — whose attachment to him had triumphed
over every sentiment of prudence and interest, and by its devotion
and constancy half redeemed its sin. But she, overwhelmed by
grief at the sad parting, had been placed in a traveling carriage
while almost in a state of insensibility, and was journeying to
ward Bologna, little conscious that he whom she would have
given all she possessed on earth to see once more was looking
on the chamber she had left and the flowers she had loved, his

78 BYRON AND THE BLESSINGTONS AT GENOA.

mind filled with a presentiment that they should never meet
again.

"Such is one of the bitter consequences resulting from the viola
tion of ties never severed idthout retribution."*

Lady Blessington's feelings of regard for Byron's memory were
by no means such as might have been desired.

Moore's sentiments with respect to the reputation of his de
parted friend were not altogether those which might have been
expected.

Campbell's feelings in relation to the fame of a brother bard,
who had only recently been a living rival, were those which
some who knew him well always feared they would prove ;
they were something more than merely cold and unkindly — they
were passionately inimical. At a period when most other lit
erary men who ever had an acquaintance with Byron, or sym
pathy with his literary pursuits, would have avoided entering
into a controversy with his enemies, and espousing the views of
his opponents, Campbell with avidity seized an opportunity of
rushing into print to wound the reputation of a brother bard,
whose fame during his lifetime he might not with impunity have
assailed. A periodical of the time, commenting on this ill-ad
vised proceeding, observed : " This strange matter has now as
sumed another and a darker shade from the interference of Mr.
Campbell, who, assuming to be the personal champion of Lady
Byron, has stepped forward to throw the most odious imputations
upon the character of Lord Byron which can possibly be left to
the worst imaginations to conceive. Against this course we pro
test, in the name of all that is honorable in human nature. We
were the undeviating censurers of the poet's injurious produc
tions during his lifetime ; but we can not do otherwise than con
demn, in far stronger terms, any attempt, after he is laid in his
grave, to blast him forever by mysterious and voiceless whis
perings. Of what monstrous crime was he guilty ? for, unless
he was guilty of some monstrous crime, a foul wrong is done to
his memory. His accusers are bound by every moral and sacred
tie to be definite in their charge : against such there is a possi-

* The Idler in Italy, vol. iii., p. 365.

BYRON AND THE BLESSINGTONS AT GENOA. 79

bility of defense ; but there can be no shield against the horri
bly vague denunciation which has been so intemperately hurled
at the unprotected and unanswering dead. And what called this
forth ? A very slight surmise by Mr. Moore against the parents
of Lady Byron ; to repel which, she comes rashly out with a
statement that damns the husband of her bosom ; and, as if this
were not enough, the zeal of Mr. Campbell advances to pour ad
ditional suspicion and ignominy upon his mouldering ashes. The
fame of a Byron is public property ; and, after what has passed,
it is imperative on his adversaries either to fix some eternal
brand upon it, such as can justify their language, or confess that
they have used expressions which no conduct of his could au
thorize. And we are persuaded that they must do the latter;
for it is incredible that any woman of the spirit and honor of
Lady Byrori could have lived an hour with a man whom she
knew to be a detested criminal, and far less that she should
have corresponded with him in playful and soothing letters.
The plea of insanity itself can not reconcile this with any thing
like the atrocious guilt now by circumstance imputed ; and we
do earnestly trust that an explanation will be vouchsafed, which
will set this painful discussion at rest in a manner more satis
factory to the world. Having, in these few remarks, grappled
with the main point at issue, we abstain from saying a syllable on
minor affairs ; and we do not deem ourselves in a condition to
blame any one of the parties we have been obliged to name."*

Lord Byron's yacht, " the Bolivar," was purchased by Lord
Blessington previously to his departure from Genoa, and it was
subsequently considered by Lady Blessington that the poet drove
a hard bargain with her husband.

Medwin, however, as a proof of Byron's lavish and inconsid
erate expenditure, and his incongruity of action in regard to
money matters, states that he gave -£1000 for a yacht which he
sold for £300, and yet refused to give the sailors their jackets.

The 2d of June, 1823, the Blessingtoiis set out from Genoa
for Naples, via Lucca, Florence, Vienna, and Rome ; took their
departure from the Eternal City the 13th of the same month,
and arrived at Naples on the 17th.

* Literary Gazette.

THE CITY AND BAY OF NAPLES.

CHAPTER IV.

THE CITY AND BAY OF NAPLES. THE J5LESSINGTONS AND THEIR

SOCIETY IN NAPLES. JUNE, 1823, TO FEBRUARY, 1826.

JUNE 2d (1823), the Blessingtons left Genoa, and passed
through Lucca, where they stayed a few days, and arrived in
Florence on the 8th of the same month. Here they remained
till the 1st of July. Lady Blessing-ton spent her whole time vis
iting monuments of antiquity, churches, galleries, villas, and pal
aces, associated with great names and memories. In no city in
Italy did she find her thoughts carried back to the past so forci
bly as at Florence. A thousand recollections of the olden time
of the merchant princes, the Medici, and the Pazzi — of all the
factions of the republic, the Neri and Biarichi, the Guelphs and
Ghibellines, recurred to memory in her various visits to the dif
ferent localities of celebrity in the noble city, the grandeur and
beauty of which far surpassed her expectations. After a so
journ of about three weeks in Florence, the party set out for
Rome. On the 5th of July, the first view of the Eternal City
burst on the pilgrims from St. James's Square.

As they entered the city, the lone mother of dead empires, all
appeared wrapped in silent solemnity, not wanting, however, in
sublimity. " Even the distant solitude of the Campagria," says
Lady Blessington, " was not divested of the latter. But in the
evening the Corso was crowded with showy equipages, occu
pied by gayly-dressed ladies, and thronged with cavaliers on
prancing steeds riding past them. Nothing could surpass the
gayety of the evening scene, or contrast more strangely with the
gloom of the morning aspect of the sombre suburbs."

The mournful contemplations awakened by the ruins of an
cient Rome are frequently spoken of by Lady Blessington.

I can not help thinking they were of too mournful a charac
ter for her ladyship to make that city of the dead, of shattered

THE CITY AND BAY OF NAPLES. gj

thrones and temples, of shrines and sepulchres, a place of abode
congenial to her feelings, tastes, and predilections.

The Eternal City and its everlasting monuments appear to
have made less impression on the mind of Lady Blessington
than might have been expected by those acquainted with her
refined tastes and literary acquirements.

The gloom of the sombre monumental city seemed oppressive
to her spirits ; the solemn aspect of the sites of palaces renown
ed of old, and those sermons in stones of crumbling monuments,
and all the remaining vestiges of a people, and their idols of
long past ages, speaking to the inmost soul of decay and de-
structibility, were not in accordance with her turn of mind, arid
her natural taste for objects and scenery that exhilarated the
senses, and communicated joyousness to every faculty. Naples,
in Lady Blessington's opinion, and not Rome, was the appropri
ate locality for an elysium that was to last forever, and for any
sojourn of English tourists of haut ton that was intended to be
prolonged for the enjoyment of Italian skies and sunshine, scen
ery and society.

On the 14th of July, nine days after her arrival in Rome,
Lady Blessington writes in her diary, " Left Rome yesterday,
driven from it by oppressive heat, and the evil prophecies dinned
into my ears of the malaria. I have no fears of the effect of
either for myself, but I dare not risk th^m for others."

There were other circumstances besides those referred to, in
all probability, which determined the precipitate departure from
Rome. All the appliances to comfort, or rather to luxury, which
had become necessary to Lady Blessington, had not been found
in Rome. Her ladyship had become exceedingly fastidious in
her tastes. The difficulties of pleasing her in house accommo
dation, in dress, in cookery especially, had become so formida
ble, and occasioned so many inconveniences, that the solicitude
spoken of for the safety of others was only one of the reasons
for the abrupt departure referred to.

With the strongest regard for Lady Blessington, and the full
est appreciation of the many good qualities that belonged to her,
it can not be denied that, whether discoursing in her salons, or

D2

82 THE CITY AND BAY OF NAPLES.

talking with pen in hand on paper in her journals, she occasion
ally aimed at something like stage eilects, acted in society and
in her diaries, and at times assumed opinions, which she aban
doned a little later, or passed oiFappearances for realities. This
was done with the view of acquiring esteem, strengthening her
position in the opinion of persons of exalted intellect or station,
and directing attention to the side of it that was brilliant and
apparently enviable, not for any unworthy purpose, but from a
desire to please, and perhaps from a feeling of uncertainty in
the possession of present advantages.

The first impressions of Lady Blessington of the beauty of the
environs of Naples, the matchless site of the city, its glorious
bay, its celebrated garden, the Villa Reale, its delightful climate,
and exquisite tints of sea and sky, and varied aspect of shore
and mountain, of isles and promontories, are described by her,
in her diaries, in very glowing terms.

Her hotel, the Gran Bretagna, fronted the sea, and was only
divided from it by the garden of the Villa Reale, filled with
plants and flowers, and adorned with statues and vases. The
sea was seen sparkling through the openings of the trees, with
numbers of boats gliding along the shore. In the " Idler in Ita
ly," Lady Blessington thus speaks of the delightful climate and
its cheering influences :

" How light and elastic is the air ! Respiration is carried on
unconsciously, and existence becomes a positive pleasure in such
a climate. Who that has seen Naples can wonder that her chil
dren are idle, and luxuriously disposed ? To gaze on the cloud
less sky and blue Mediterranean, in an atmosphere so pure and
balmy, is enough to make the veriest plodder who ever courted
Plutus abandon his toil, and enjoy the delicious dole e far1 nicntc
of the Neapolitans."*

A few words of this epitome of Paradise may be permitted to
one who enjoyed its felicity of clirne, and site, and scenery for
upward of three years.

The city of Naples retains no vestiges of Greek or Roman an
tiquity. It occupies the site of two ancient Greek towns, Palse-

* Tho Ifllrr in ftalv. p. "241. P;ir. orl.. 1839.

THE CITY AND BAY OF NAPLES. 33

opolis, founded by Parthenope, and Neapolis, or the New Town.
Eventually they merged into one city, which became a portion
.of the Roman Empire, and obtained the name of Neapolis. The
Bay of Naples, for the matchless beauty of its situation and its
surrounding scenery, is unrivaled. Its circling beach extends
from the promontory of Pausilippo to Sorrento, a line of more
than thirty miles of varied beauty and magnificence. This city,
with its churches, palaces, villas, and houses, luxuriant gardens
and vineyards, with the surrounding hills and grounds thickly
planted in the vicinity, backed by the Apennines, well deserves
its poetical designation, " Unpezzo di ciclo caduto in terra." Na
ples, it is truly said, " viewed by moonlight, is enchanting. The
moon, pouring out an effulgence of silvery light from a sky of
the deepest azure, through a pure and transparent atmosphere,
places all the prominent buildings in strong relief; and while
it makes every object distinctly visible, it mellows each tint,
and blends the innumerable details into one vast harmonious
whole, throwing a bewitching and indescribable softness and re
pose on the scene."

From the time that this city and territory fell under the power
of the Romans, to the period of the destruction of Pompeii in the
year of our Lord 79, Neapolis, on account of the beauty of its sit
uation and excellence of its climate, became the favorite place
of residence in the winter season, and the chosen sojourn for a
continuance of several of the magnates of the Eternal City, of
the Emperor Tiberius for the last years of his iniquitous reign —
of many of the most illustrious sages arid philosophers of Rome.
For some centuries subsequently to the destruction of Pompeii,
Naples shared the calamitous fate of the other Italian cities :
it was ruled, harassed, pillaged, and devastated successively
by Goths, Vandals, Saracens, Lombards, and Parmans, and ulti
mately by Germans, French, and Spaniards. The flight of the
King of Naples in 1799 — the short reign of Joseph Bonaparte —
the rule of Murat — his deposition, execution — and other modern
vicissitudes, it is hardly necessary to refer to.

The Castello dell Novo, standing on a projecting insulated
rock, commands the entire of the two semicircular bays on which

84 THE CITY AND BAY OF NAPLES.

the city stands. In one direction extends the long line of shore
on which are the Chiatamone, the Marino and Chiaja, with nu
merous ascending terraces of streets behind them, crowned by
Fort St. Elmo and Castello Nuovo, the convent of Camaldole,
the Palazzo Belvidere, and the hill of the Vomero ; and still far
ther westward, the Promontory of Pausilippo terminates the land
view, arid in this vicinity lie the beautiful little islands of Ischia
and Procida. In the other direction, to the eastward of the Cas
tello dell Novo, are semicircular clusters of houses, convents, and
churches, with the mole, the light-house, and harbor, the quay
of Santa Lucia, surmounted by the Palace of Capo di Monte, and
the eminence of Capo di Chino, and in the distant background
the bold outlines of the Apennines, with their tints of purple va
rying with the atmosphere, and presenting a different aspect
with the several changes of the setting sun. Still farther by
the eastern shore is the Ponte Madelena leading to Portici and
Torro del Grseco, the sites and ruins of Pompeii and Hercula-
neum, and rising up in the vicinity, in the plains of the Cam-
pagna Felice, Vesuvius of portentous aspect, sombre and majes
tic, with all its associations of terror and destruction, and the tra
ditionary horrors of its history, from those of 79 A.D. to the latest
eruptions of signal violence in 1821, are recalled as we approach
its base or ascend the dreary foot-path in the ravines of molten
lava or ragged scorise and masses of huge rock that have been
torn from the sides of the crater in some past eruptions.

Still farther along the shore to the southeast stands Castella-
mare, a place of resort noted for its coolness and refreshing sea-
breezes, the site of the ancient Stabia, the summer retreat of the
elite of Naples. A little farther is the delightful scenery of
Monte S.Michel, Sorrento, the birth-place of Tasso, and the Cape
Campanello, the ancient Athenaeus, or Promontory of Minerva,
terminate the land view to the eastward. At the entrance to
the bay, where the expanse is greatest between the eastern and
western shore, in a southern direction, is the island of Capri, the
ancient CapreoR, eighteen miles distant from the opposite ex
tremity of the Bay of Portici, about four miles from the nearest
shore. The extreme length of the island is about four miles ;

THE CITY AND BAY OF NAPLES. 85

in breadth it is about two miles. The peak of the southern
mountain of the island is about 2000 feet high. Several ruins,
supposed to be of palaces of the imperial monster Tiberius, exist
on this island.

The extreme length of Naples is from the Ponte Madelena
to Pausilippo, along the sea-shore, a distance of about four miles.
The breadth is unequal ; at the west end it is contracted be
tween the hills of the Vomero and the Belvidere and the sea
side, and in the interval there are only three or four streets.
Toward the centre it extends from the Castello dell Novo north
ward to the Capo di Monte and Monte di Chino, and in this
direction the breadth of this most ancient part of the city, and
most densely populated from the quay of St. Lucia to the emi
nences of Capo di Monte and Capo di Chino, is about two miles.
The main street, Strada del Toledo, runs nearly parallel with
the shore. It is broad, and fronted with large houses, five or
six stories high, in which are the principal shops of the city.
The population amounts to about 380,000 inhabitants ; there are
upward of 300 churches ; the lazzaroni are estimated at 40,000 ;
the clergy, monks, and nuns, at 7800.

The Castello dell Novo is built on a rock, which projects into
the sea from the Chiatamone, which separates it from Pizzo Fal
cone. It was formerly called Megera, then Lucullanum. The
last of the Roman Emperors, Romulus Augustulanus, is said to
have been imprisoned here in 476. The fortress consists now of
a composed mass of buildings, ancient and modern. In one of
the old gloomy apartments, the Glueen Joanna was for some time
confined. Its venerable commandant in 1822-4, and for many
years previously, was a brave old Irish officer, General "Wade.

Willis has happily sketched the Bay of Naples in a few
words, not destitute of poetry or of graphic talent.

" The bay is a collection of beauties, which seems to me more
a miracle than an accident of nature. It is a deep crescent of
sixteen miles across, and little more in length, between the
points of which lies a chain of low mountains, called the island
of Capri, looking from the shore like a vast heap of clouds brood
ing at sea. In the bosom of the crescent lies Naples. Its pal-

80 THE CITY AND BAY OF NAPLES.

aces and principal buildings cluster around the base of an abrupt
hill crowned by the castle of St. Elmo, and its half million of
inhabitants have stretched their dwellings over the plain to
ward Vesuvius, and back upon Posilippo, bordering the curve
of the shore on the right and left with a broad white band of
city and village for twelve or fourteen miles. Back from this,
on the southern side, a very gradual ascent brings your eye to
the base of Vesuvius, which rises from the plain in a sharp cone,
broken in at the top ; its black and lava-streaked sides descend
ing with the evenness of a sand-hill, on one side to the disin
terred city of Pompeii, and on the other to the royal palace of
Portici, built over the yet unexplored Herculaneurn. In the
centre of the crescent of the shore, projecting into the sea by a
bridge of two or three hundred feet in length, stands a small
castle, built upon a rock, on one side of which lies the mole
with its shipping. The other side is bordered, close to the
beach, with the gardens of the royal villa, a magnificent prom
enade of a mile, ornamented with fancy temples and statuary,
on the smooth alleys of which may be met, at certain hours, all
that is brilliant and gay in Naples. Farther on, toward the
northern horn of the bay, lies the Mount of Posilippo, the ancient
coast of Baiao, Cape Misenum, and the mountain isles of Procida
and Ischia ; the last of which still preserves the costumes of
Greece, from which it was colonized centuries ago. The bay
itself is as blue as the sky, scarcely ruffled all day with the wind,
and covered by countless boats fishing or creeping on with their
picturesque lateen sails just filled ; while the atmosphere over
sea, city, and mountain is of a clearness and brilliancy which
is inconceivable in other countries. The superiority of the sky
and climate of Italy is no fable in any part of this delicious land ;
but in Naples, if the day I have spent here is a fair specimen,
it is matchless even for Italy. There is something like a fine
blue veil of a most dazzling transparency over the mountains
around, but above and between there seems nothing but view
less space — nothing like air that a bird could rise upon. The
eye gets intoxicated almost with gazing on it."*

* Pencilings by the Wuy, p. 32.

THE CITY AND BAY OF NAPLES. 87

" I can compare standing on the top of Vesuvius and looking
down upon the bay and city of Naples to nothing but mounting
a peak in the infernal regions overlooking Paradise. The larger
crater encircles you entirely for a mile, cutting off the view of
the sides of the mountain ; and from the elevation of the new
cone, you look over the rising edge of this black field of smoke
and cinders, and drop the eye at once upon Naples, lying asleep
in the sun, with its lazy sails upon the water, and the green hills
inclosing it clad in the indescribable beauty of an Italian at
mosphere. Beyond all comparison, by the testimony of every
writer and traveler, the most beautiful scene in the world —
the loveliest water and the brightest land lay spread out before
us. With the stench of hot sulphur in our nostrils, ankle deep
in black ashes, and a waste of smouldering cinders in every
direction around us, the enjoyment of the view certainly did not
want for the heightening of contrast."*

The Bay of Naples, long after the departure of Lady Blessing-
ton from its shores, ceased not to be a favorite theme both in
conversation and composition with her ladyship.

The sketch of its beauties appeared in the " Book of Beauty"
for 1834, and again came out, retouched, in one of her later pub
lications, " The Lottery of Life."

THE BAY OF NAPLES
In the Summer of 1824.

" It is evening, and scarcely a breeze ruffles the calm bosom
of the beautiful bay, which resembles a vast lake, reflecting on
its glassy surface the bright sky above, and the thousand stars
with which it is studded. Naples, with its white colonnades
seen amid the dark foliage of its terraced gardens, rises like an
amphitheatre : lights stream from the windows and fall on the
sea beneath like colums of gold ; the castle of St. Elmo crown
ing the centre ; Vesuvius, like a sleeping giant in grim repose,
whose awakening all dread, is to the left ; and on the right are
the vine-crowned heights of the beautiful Vomero, with their
palaces and villas peeping forth from the groves that surround

* Ponrilinas by (ho Way, p. 43.

88 THE CITY AND BAY OF NAPLES.

them ; while rising above it, the convent of Camaldoli lifts its
head to the skies. Resina, Portici, Castelamare, and the lonely
shores of Sorrento, reach out from Vesuvius as if they tried to
embrace the isle of Capri, which forms the central object ; and
Pausilipo and Misenum, which, in the distance, seemed joined
to Procida and Ischia, advance to meet the beautiful island on
the right. The air, as it leaves the shore, is laden with fra
grance from the orange-trees and jasmine, so abundant round
Naples ; and the soft music of the guitar, or lively sound of the
tambourine, marking the brisk movements of the tarantella,
steals on the ear. But hark ! a rich stream of music, silencing
all other, is heard, and a golden barge advances ; the oars keep
time to the music, and each stroke of them sends forth a silvery
light ; numerous lamps attached to the boat give it, at a little
distance, the appearance of a vast shell of topaz floating on a
sea of sapphire. Nearer and nearer draws this splendid pa
geant, the music falls more distinctly on the charmed ear, and
one sees that its dulcet sounds are produced by a band of glitter
ing musicians clothed in royal liveries. This illuminated barge
is followed by another with a silken canopy overhead, and the
curtains drawn back to admit the balmy air. Cleopatra, when
she sailed down the Cydnus, boasted not a more beautiful ves
sel ; and, as it glides over the sea, it seems impelled by the
music that precedes it, so perfectly does it keep time to its en
chanting sounds, leaving a bright trace behind, like the memory
of departed happiness. But who is he that guides this beau
teous bark ? His tall and slight figure is curved, and his snowy
locks, falling over ruddy cheeks, show that age has bent, but not
broken him ; he looks like one born to command — a hoary Nep
tune steering over his native element ; all eyes arc fixed, but
his follow the glittering barge that precedes him. Arid who is
she that has the seat of honor at his side ? Her fair, large, and
unmeaning face wears a placid smile, and those light blue eyes
and fair ringlets speak her of another land ; her lips, too, want
the fine chiseling which marks those of the sunny clime of
Italy ; and the expression of her countenance has in it more of
-earth than heaven. Innumerable boats, filled with lords and

THE CITY AND BAY OF NAPLES. 89

ladies, follow, but intrude not on the privacy of this royal bark,
which passes before us like a vision in a dream. He who steer
ed was Ferdinand, King of the Sicilies, and she who was beside
him Maria Louisa, ex-Empress of France."

Many a glorious evening have I passed with the Blessingtons
in 1823 and in the early part of 1824, sailing in the Bay of Na
ples, in their yacht, the Bolivar, which had belonged to Lord
Byron; and not unfrequently, when the weather was particular
ly fine, and the moonlight gave additional beauty to the shores
of Portici and Castelamare, Sorrento, and Pausilippo, the nio;ht
has been far advanced before we returned to the Mole.

The furniture of the cabin of the Bolivar reminds one of its
former owner. The table at which he wrote, the sofa on which
he reclined, were in the places in which they stood when he
owned the yacht. Byron was very partial to this vessel. It
had been built for him expressly at Leghorn. On one occasion
I was of the party, when, having dined on board, and skirted
along the shores of Castelamare and Sorrento, the wind fell
about dusk, and we lay becalmed in the bay till two or three
o'clock in the morning, some six or eight miles from the shore.
The bay was never more beautiful than on that delightful night ;
the moonlight could not be more brilliant. The pale blue sky
was without a cloud, the sea smooth and shining as a mirror,
and at every plash of an oar glittering with phosphorescent
flashes of vivid light. But all the beauties of the bay on that
occasion wasted their loveliness on the weary eyes of poor Lady
Blessington that long night in vain.

" Captain Smith," capitaine par complaisance, a lieutenant of
the navy, who had the command of the Bolivar, a very great
original, on that as well as many other occasions served to re
lieve the tedium of those aquatic excursions, which were some
times a little more prolonged than pleased Lady Blessington.
Her ladyship had a great turn and a particular talent for grave
banter, for solemn irony, verging on the very borders of obvi
ous hoaxing. It was a very great delight to her to discover a
prevailing weakness, vanity, absurdity, prejudice, or an antipa
thy in an extravagant or eccentric, vain or peculiar person, and

90 THE CITY AND BAY OF NAPLES.

then to draw out that individual, and seem to read his thoughts,
throwing out catch-words and half sentences to suggest the kind
of expression she desired or expected to solicit, and then lead
ing the party into some ridiculous display of oddity or vanity,
and exceedingly absurd observations.

But this was done with such singular tact, finesse, and deli
cacy of humor, that pain never was inflicted by the mystifica
tion, for the simple reason that the badinage was never sus
pected by the party on whom it was practiced, even when carried
to the very utmost limit of discretion. This taste for drawing
out odd people, and making them believe absurd things, or ex
press ridiculous ones, was certainly indulged in, not in a vulgar
or coarse manner, but it became too much a habit, and tended,
perhaps, to create a penchant for acting in society, and playing
off opinions, as other persons do jokes and jests, for the sake of
the fun of the performance.

The Count D'Orsay, who was a man of genuine wit and won
derful quickness of perception of the ridiculous wherever it ex
isted, also possessed this taste for mystifying and eliciting ab
surdity to a very great extent, and rendered no little aid to Lady
Blessington in these exhibitions of talent for grave irony and
refined banter, which ever and anon, of an evening, she was
wont to indulge in. In Naples, poor " Captain Smith's" anxi
ety for promotion, and high sense of fitness for the most exalted
position in his profession, furnished the principal subjects for
the display of this kind of talent.

The poor captain was " fooled to the very top of his bent.''
He was drawn out in all companies, in season and out of sea
son, on the subject of posting. The Admiralty were regularly
lugged into every argument, and it invariably ended with an in
quiry "why he was not posted." The same observations in
reply were always produced by an allusion to the Lords of the
Admiralty ; and the same replies, with unerring precision, were
sure to follow the inquiry about post rank. " There was no pat
ronage for merit." " He ought to have been posted fifteen years
ago." " Half the post-captains in the navy were his juniors,
though all got posted because they had patrons." "But the

THE CITY AND BAY OF NAPLES. 91

Lords of the Admiralty never posted a man for his service,
and — " The disconcerted lieutenant would then be interrupted
by D'Orsay with some such good-nature d suggestion as the fol
lowing, in his broken English : " Ah, my poor Smid, tell miladi
over again, my good fellow ; once more explain for Mademoiselle
Power, too, how it happens Milords of the Admirals never post
ed you ?"

Then would the lieutenant go over the old formula in a queru
lous tone, without the slightest change of voice or look.

In July, 1823, the Blessingtons established themselves at the
Palace or Villa Belvidere, on the Vornero, one of the most beau
tiful residences in Naples, surrounded by gardens overlooking
the bay, and commanding a most enchanting view of its exqui
site features. Though the palace was furnished suitably for a
Neapolitan prince, Lady Blessington found it required a vast
number of comforts, the absence of which could not be com
pensated by beautifully decorated walls and ceilings, marble
floors, pictures, and statues, and an abundance of antiquated so
fas, and chairs of gigantic dimensions, carved and gilt. The
Prince and Princess Belvidere marveled when they were in
formed an upholsterer's services would be required, arid a vari
ety of articles of furniture would have to be procured for the
wants of the sojourners who were about to occupy their mansion
for a few months. The rent of this palace was extravagantly
high ; but nothing was considered too dear for the advantage of
its sight and scenery.

Lady Blessington thus describes her new abode : " A long
avenue, entered by an old-fashioned archway, which forms part
of the dwelling of the intendente of the Prince di Belvidere,
leads through a pleasure ground filled with the rarest trees,
shrubs, and plants, to the palazzo, which forms three sides of a
square, the fourth being an arcade that connects one portion of
the building with the other. There is a court-yard and fount
ain in the centre. A colonnade extends from each side of the
front of the palace, supporting a terrace covered with flowers.
The windows of the principal salons open on a garden formed
on an elevated terrace, surrounded on three sides by a marble

92 SOCIETY OF THE BLESSINGTONS AT NAPLES.

balustrade, and inclosed on the fourth by a long gallery, filled
with pictures, statues, and alti and bassi relievi. On the top
of this gallery, which is of considerable length, is a terrace, at
the extreme end of which is a pavilion, with open arcades, and
paved with marble. This pavilion commands a most enchant
ing prospect of the bay, with the coast of Sorrento on the left ;
Capri in the centre, with Nisida, Procida, Ischia, and the prom
ontory of Misenum to the right ; the foreground filled up by
gardens and vineyards. The odor of the flowers in the grounds
around this pavilion, and the Spanish jasmine and tuberoses that
cover the walls, render it one of the most delicious retreats in
the world. The walls of all the rooms are literally covered' with
pictures ; the architraves of the doors of the principal rooms are
of Oriental alabaster and the rarest marbles ; the tables and con
soles are composed of the same costly materials ; and the furni
ture, though in decadence, bears the traces of its pristine splen
dor. Besides five salons de reception on the principal floor, the
palace contains a richly-decorated chapel and sacristy, a large
salle de billard, and several suites of bed and dressing rooms."*

Never did English lady of refined tastes make a sojourn in
the neighborhood of Pompeii and Herculaneum, visit the various
localities of Naples and its vicinity, carry out researches of an
tiquarian interest, and inquire into the past amid the ruins of
Pccstum and Beneventum, Sorrento, Amalfi, Salerno, Ischia, and
Procida, and Capri, under such advantageous circumstances as
Lady Blessington.

When she visited Herculaneum she was accompanied by Sir
William Gell ; when she examined museums and galleries de
voted to objects of art, ancient or modern, she was accompanied
by Mr. Uwins, the painter, or Mr. Richard Westmacott, the sculp
tor, or Mr. Millingen, the antiquarian, who " initiated her into
the mysteries of numismatics." If she made an excursion to
Ptestum, it was with the same erudite cicerone ; or when she
had an evening visit to the Observatory, it was in the company
of Mr. Herschel (now Sir John), or the famous Italian astrono
mer Piazzi. Or if she went to Beneventum, or the Torre di

* The Idler in Italy, p. 247. P;ir. cd., 1839.

SOCIETY OF THE BLESSINGTONS AT NAPLES. 93

Patria, the site of the ancient Liternum, it was in the agreeable
society of some celebrated savant.

The visit to Pompeii, with Sir William G-ell as cicerone, has
been immortalized by Lady Blessington in some admirable stan
zas, the first and last of which I present to my readers :
" Lonely city of the dead !

Body whence the soul has fled,

Leaving still upon thy face

Such a mild and pensive grace

As the lately dead display,

While yet stamped upon frail clay,

Rests the impress of the mind,

That the fragile earth refined.

* # * #• *

" Farewell, city of the dead !

O'er whom centuries have fled,

Leaving on your buried face

Not one mark time loves to trace !

Dumb as Egypt corpses, you

Strangely meet our anxious view ;

Showing to the eager gaze

But cold still shades of ancient days."

Among the papers of Lady Blessington, I found some beauti
fully written verses on the ruins of Psestum, without name or
date, which appear to have been sent to her by the author of
them.

Her ladyship visited Paestum in May, 1824, accompanied by
Mr. Millingen, Mr. C. Matthews, and Lord Morpeth ; and prob
ably these lines may have been composed by one of her com
panions on that occasion.

P^STUM.

" 'Mid the deep silence of the pathless wild,
Where kindlier nature once profusely smiled,
Th' eternal temples stand ; unknown their age,
Untold their annals in historic page !
All that around them stood, now far away,

Single in ruin, mighty in decay ! *

Between the mountains and the neighb'ring main,
They claim the empire of the lonely plain.
In solemn beauty, through the clear blue light,
The Doric columns rear their awful height !

94 SOCIETY OF THE BLESSINGTONS AT NAPLES.

Emblems of strength untamed ! yet conquering time

Has mellowed half the sternness of their prime ;

And bade the richer, mid their ruins grown,

Imbrown with darker hues the vivid stone.

Each channeled pillar of the fane appears

Unspoiled, yet softened by consuming years.

So calmly awful ! so serenely fair !

The gazers rapt still mutely worship there.

Not always thus, when full beneath the day,

No fairer scene than Paestum's lovely bay ;

When her light soil bore plants of every hue,

And twice each year her beauteous roses blew ;

While bards her blooming honors loved to sing,

And Tuscan zephyrs fanned th' eternal spring.

When in her port the Syrian moored his fleet,

And wealth and commerce filled the peopled street ;

While here the trembling mariner adored

The seas' dread sovereign, Posidonia's lord ;

With native tablets decked yon hallowed walls,

Or sued for justice in her crowded halls ;

There stood on high the white-robed Flamen, there

The opening portal poured the choral prayer ;

While to the searching heaven swelled loud the sound,

And incense blazed, and myriads knelt around.

'Tis past ! the actors of the plain are mute,
E'en to the herdsman's call, or shepherd's flute !
The toils of art, the charms of nature fail,
And death triumphant rules the tainted gale.
From the lone spot the affrighted peasants haste,
A wild the garden, and the town a waste.

But they are still the same : alike they mock

The invader's menace and the tempest's shock ;

And ere the world had bowed at Csesar's throne,

Ere yet proud Rome's all-conquering name was known,

They stood, and fleeting centuries in vain

Have poured their fury o'er the enduring fane.

Such long shall stand, proud relics of a clime

Where man was glorious, and his works sublime ;

While in the progress of their long decay,

Thrones shrink to dust, and nations pass away."*

* I visited P;«stum in company with Mr. Greenongh, one of the Vice Presi-
flmN of the Geographical Society, and Mr. Burton, the architect, in 1823, a short

SOCIETY OF THE BLESSINGTONS AT NAPLES. 95

I accompanied Lady Blessington and her party on the occa
sion, I think, of their first visit to Mount Vesuvius. The account
in the " Idler in Italy" of the ascent is given with great liveli
ness and humor, but the wit and drollery of some of the persons
who were of this party contributed to render the visit one of
the merriest, perhaps, that ever was made to a volcano, and to
the joyousness of the expedition altogether I think her ladyship
has hardly done justice.

I had previously made a very singular excursion to Vesuvius,
accompanied by a blind gentleman, who used to boast of his
having come from England expressly to see an eruption. He
was certainly recompensed for his pains by having an opportu
nity afforded him, during his sojourn in Naples, of hearing the
bellowing of the disemboguing volcano, of the greatest violence
that had occurred in recent times.

The great eruption of June, 1821, was witnessed by me. I
accompanied to the mount the celebrated blind traveler, Lieu
tenant Holman, the evening on which the violence of the erup
tion was at its greatest height. He has given an account of our
night ascent, and adventures by no means free from peril, in his
"Narrative of a Journey in France, Italy, Savoy, &c., in the
years 1819, 1820, and 1821," page 234. We set off from Na
ples about five o'clock in the afternoon, as my blind companion
says in his work, " with the view of seeing the mountain by
time only before the murder of Mr. and Mrs. Hunt in that vicinity. No traveler
has said so much to the purpose of Paestum in so few words as Forsyth.

" On entering the walls of Paastum I felt all the religion of the place. I trod
as on sacred ground. I stood amazed at the long obscurity of its mighty ruins.
They can be descried with a glass from Salerno, the high road of Calabria com
mands a distant view, the city of Capaccio looks down upon them, and a few
wretches have always lived on the spot ; yet they remain unnoticed by the best
Neapolitan antiquaries. Pelegrino, Capaccio, and Sanfelicc wrote volumes on
the beaten tracks of topography, but they never traveled.

" I will not disturb the dreams of Paoli, who can sec nothing here but the work
of Tuscans and the Tuscan order ; nor would I, with other antiquaries, remount to
the Sybarites, and ascribe these monuments — monuments the most simple, sage,
austere, energetic — to a race the most opposite in character. Because the Pa^stan
Doric differs in all its proportions from that of the exaggeration of mass which
awes every eye, and a stability which, from time unknown, has sustained in the
air these ponderous entablatures. The walls are fallen, and the columns stand ;
the solid has failed, and the open resists,"

96 SOCIETY OF THE BLESSINGTONS AT NAPLES.

moonlight." Passing through Portici, we reached Resina about
seven o'clock, and at the base of the mountain took a conductor
from the house of Salvatori. Visitants usually ascend on asses
two thirds of the way toward the summit, but my blind friend
preferred walking, " to see things better with his feet." We
reached the hermitage by eight or nine o'clock, where we supped,
and did great justice to the hermit's fare. The eruption was
chiefly of light ashes, when we proceeded upward from the
hermitage, and the road or path, at all times difficult, was now
doubly so from the heavy dust and scoria3, interspersed with
large and dark stones, which lay all along it. The shower of
ashes was succeeded, as we ascended, by torrents of red-hot lava,
that streamed over the crater in the direction of the wind, and,
like a river of molten lead, as it descended, and lost its bright
red heat, flowed down not impetuously, but slowly and gradu
ally, in a great broad stream, perhaps sixty or eighty feet wide,
toward the sea to the east of Resina. We proceeded along the
edge of this stream for some distance, and my blind friend form
ed his notions of its consistence, rate of flowing, and tempera
ture by poking his staff in this stream of lava, and feeling the
charred stick when he removed it. The great crater was then
in repose. At length we reached the spot where a great fissure,
somewhat lower than the crater, was emitting torrents of lava
and sulphurous vapors. My blind friend would not be persua
ded to remain behind when the guide conducted us to any spot
particularly perilous, and especially to one where fire and ashes
were issuing from clefts in the rock on which we walked. He
insisted on walking over places where we could hear the crack
ling effects of the fire on the lava beneath our feet, and on a
level with the brim of the new crater, which was then pouring
forth showers of fire and smoke, and lava, and occasionally
masses of rock of amazing dimensions, to an enormous height in
the air. A change of wind must inevitably have buried us, ei
ther beneath the ashes or the molten lava. The huge rocks
generally fell back into the crater from which they issued. The
ground was glowing with heat under our feet, which often
obliged us to shift our position. Our guide conducted us to the

SOCIETY OF THE BLESSINGTONS AT NAPLES, 97

edge of a crater, where a French gentleman had thrown him
self in about two months previously. He had written some
lines in the travelers' book at the hermitage on his ascent, in
dicative of the old fact that " the course of true love never did
run smooth."

The view of the Bay of Naples and of the distant city from
the summit of Vesuvius on a beautiful moonlight night, without
a cloud in the sky, such as we had the good fortune to enjoy,
was almost magic in its effect ; such serenity, and repose, and
beauty in perfect stillness, formed a striking contrast with the
lurid glare of the red-hot masses that were emitted from the vol
cano, and the frightful bellowings of the burning mountain on
which we stood.

I should have observed that there are, properly speaking, two
summits, one westward, called Somma, the other South Vesuvius.
In 1667, an eruption had added two hundred feet to the craters
elevation. But in the present eruption a very large portion of
this crater had fallen in.

We got back to Portici at three o'clock in the morning, and to
Naples at four.

Lady Blessington has given some account of her " descents
into the graves of buried cities," and her ascent also to the sum
mit of Mount Vesuvius. In some of these visits and excursions
I had the pleasure of accompanying her, when the admirable
and erudite cicerone of her ladyship was Sir "William Gell.*

Among the English who frequented the Palazzo Belviiloro,
the following may be enumerated as the elite, or most highly
esteemed of the visitors there : Sir "William Drummond, fefir
William Gell, the Honorable Keppel Craven, Mr. William Ham-

* Herculaneum was founded A.M. 2757, sixty years before the siege of Troy,
about 3092 years ago. It was destroyed by the same eruption of Vesuvius, in the
year 79 A.D., which buried Pompeii. Scarcely any more than a mere reference
to the fact of the destruction of either city is to be found in Pliny, or any ancient
author.

The buried cities remained undiscovered till 1641 years after their destruction.

Herculaneum had been successively ruled by the Etruscans, Oscians, Sam-
nites, Greeks, and, when destroyed, by the Romans. The original founder was
said to be the Theban Hercules. Portici and Resina are built over the buried city.

VOL. I.— E

»8 SOCIETY OF THE BLESSINGTONS AT NAPLES.

Iton, the British minister to the Neapolitan court ; Colonel Cha-
oner Bisse, the Honorable R. Grosvenor, Captain Gordon, broth-
•r of Lord Aberdeen ; Mr. Matthias, the author of " the Pursuits
f Literature ;" Lord Guilford, Count (now Prince) Paul Lieven,
! ,ord Ashley, Mr. Evelyn Denison, Mr. Richard Williams, Sigrior
'alvaggi, a distinguished litterateur ; the Due de Rocco Romano,
vlarchese Guiliano, Due de Cazarano, Lord Dudley and Ward,
,jord Howden, and his son Mr. Cradock ; later, if I mistake not,
Jolonel Caradoc, the Honorable George Howard, the present
jord Morpeth, Mr. Millingen, the eminent antiquarian ; Mr.
Charles Matthews, the son of the celebrated comedian ; Lord
Ponsonby, Prince Ischitelli, Mr. J. Strangways, the brother of
L,ord Ilchester ; Mr. H. Baillie, Mr. Herschel, the astronomer ;
Ir. Henry Fox (now Lord Holland), Mr. J. Townsend (now Lord
;ydney), Count de Camaldole, General Church, General Flores-
m Pepe, Mr. Richard Westmacott, the Due de FitzJames, Cas-
nir Delavigne, Filangiere (Prince Satriani), son of the well-
:nown writer on jurisprudence ; Mr. Bootle Wilbraharn, Jim.,
he Abbe Monticelli, an eminent geologist ; the Archbishop of
Carento, Sir Andrew Barnard, Signor Piazzi, a celebrated as-
'ronomer, the discoverer of the planet Ceres.

The situation of the villa Belvidere — the lovely prospect from
ihe terrace that communicated with the principal saloon — the
classic beauty of the house, the effect of the tasteful laying out
of the grounds — the elegance of the establishment, and the pre
cious objects of modern art, of an ornamental kind, of bijouterie,
porcelain", ivory, gems of great rarity, and vases of exquisite form
and workmanship, and relics too of antiquity, of great value, col-
ected by Lady Blessington throughout Italy, or presented to her
by connoisseurs and dilettante like Gell, and Millingen, and
Oodswell, and Drummond — it would be difficult to exaggerate
he merits of, or to describe adequately the effects of, so many
'xcellences were combined in the admirable tout ensemble of that
/ilia, when it was the abode of the Countess of Blessington.

Who ever enjoyed the pleasures of her elegant hospitality in
that delightful abode, and the brilliant society of the eminent
persons by whom she was habitually surrounded there, and can

SOJOURN IN ROME. 99

forget the scene, the hostess and the circle, that imparted to the
villa Belvidere some of the Elysian characteristics that poetry
has ascribed to a neighboring locality ?

Difficulties with the proprietor of this mansion obliged the
Blessingtoris to quit their Neapolitan paradise on the YOUKTO
for the villa Gallo, situated on another eminence, that of Capo
di Monte, the end of March, 1825, and there they remained till
February the following year.

CHAPTER V.

DEPARTURE FROM NAPLES, SOJOURN IN ROME, FLORENCE, MILAN,

VENICE, AND GENOA. RETURN TO PARIS. FEBRUARY, 1 826,

TO JUNE, 1829.

THE Blessingtons and their party having made Naples their
head-quarters for upward of two years and a half, took their de
parture the end of February, 1826, and arrived at Rome the be
ginning of March following.

The departure froiii Naples was sudden, and the cause for that
suddenness is not explained in the journals of Lady Blessington.

The Blessingtons arrived in Rome from Naples the beginning
of March. They remained in Rome till about the middle of the
month, and then set out for Florence.

We find them in the month of April in that city, where Lord
and Lady Normanby were then entertaining the inhabitants
with theatricals. They remained in Florence nearly nine
months. In December they were once more at Genoa, but he
who had made their previous sojourn there so agreeable was
then numbered with the dead. Before the close of the month
we find them established at Pisa, where they had the pleasure
of meeting the Due and Duchesse de Guiche.

Lady Blessington had met Lord John Russell in Genoa. She
had known his lordship in England, and thought very highly
both of his talents and the amiability of his disposition. With
the exception of the Duke of York, who was an especial favorite
of her ladyship, Lord Grey, and perhaps Lord Durham, none of

IQQ SOJOURN IN ROME.

the persons who frequented the abode of the Blcssingtous in f>t.
James's Square were spoken of in such warm terms of regard
and esteem by Lady r>lessington as Lord John Russell. She
thus speaks of him in her Naples diary:

"lie came and dined with us, and was in better health and
spirits than I remember him when, in England, lie is exceed
ingly well read, and has a quiet dash of humor, that renders his
observations very amusing. AHien the reserve peculiar to him
is thawed, lie can be very agreeable ; and the society of his Ge
noese friends having had this eJlect, he appears here to much
more advantage than in London. Good sense, a considerable
power of discrimination, a highly-cultivated mind, and great
equality of temper, are the characteristics of Lord John Russell ;
and these peculiarly lit him for taking a distinguished part in
public life. The only obstacle to his success seems to me to
be the natural reserve of his manners, which, by leading people
to think him cold and proud, may preclude him from exciting
that warm sentiment of personal attachment rarely accorded,
except to those whose uniform friendly demeanor excites and
strengthens it ; and without this attraction, it is difficult, if not
impossible, for a statesman, whatever may be the degree of es
teem entertained for his character, to have devoted friends and
partisans, accessories so indispensable for one who would fill a
distinguished rile iu public life.

" Lord John Russell dined with us ajrain yesterday, and no
body could be more agreeable. He should stay t\vo or three
years among his Italian friends, to wear oil' forevor the reserve
that shrouds so many good qualities, and conceals so many agree
able ones ; and he would then become as popular as he deserves
to be. But he will return to England, be again thrown into the
clique which political differences keep apart from that of their
opponents, become as cold and distant as formerly ; and people
will exclaim at his want of cordiality, and draw back from what
they consider to be his haughty reserve."*

The Blessingtons remained in Pisa till the latter part of June,
1827. TYc find them again in Florence from July to the No
vember following.

* The Idler in Italy, Par. cd,, 1839, p. 370.

SOJOURN IN FLORENCE. 101

At Florence, in 1826 and 1827, Lady Blessington was ac
quainted with Demidoff, " the Russian Crcesus ;" with Lord l)il-
lon, the author of an epic poem, " Eccelino, the Tyrant of Padua,"
a production more complacently read aloud by his lordship on
various occasions than often patiently listened to by his hear
ers ; the Prince Borgfyese, a " noble Roman," remarkable, for his
obesity, the number and size of his gold rings, and the circum
stance of his being the husband of the sister ofl^apoleon — ''La
petite et Mignonne Pauline;" Lamartine, " very good-looking
and distinguished in his appearance, who dressed so perfectly
like a gentleman that one never would suspect him to be a
poet ;" Cornte Alexandre de la Borde, and his son M. Leon de
la Borde ; Mr. Jerningham, the son of Lord iStailord ; Henry
Anson, " a line young man, on his way to the East" (and never
destined to return from it) ; Mr. Strangways, in the absence of
Lord Burghersh officiating as Charge d'Aflaires ; Mr. Francis
Hare, " gay, clever, and amusing;" and in May, 1827, AYaltcr
Savage Landor, " one of the most remarkable writers of his
day, as well as one of the most remarkable and original of
men." This was the first time of meeting with Mr. Landor, and
(iuring the sojourn of the Blessingtons in Florence there were
few days they did not see him. The strongest attachment that
comes within the legitimate limits and bonds of literary friend
ships was soon formed between Lady Blessington and the cel
ebrated author of " Imaginary Conversations."

Hallam, the historian, the young Lord Lifibrd, " formed for
the dolcfi far niente of Italian life," with his imploring expres
sion of Laissez moi tranquille in his good-natured face, were
then likewise residing there ; and Lord and Lady Normanby
also were still sojourning there in 1827. Lord Xormanby, dur
ing his sojourn there, was a frequent visitor at the Blessingtons'.
His taste for theatricals was quite in unison with Lord Blessing-
ton's, while his taste for literature, his polished and fascinating
manners, his desire to please, arid disposition to oblige, and
most agreeable conversation, furnished peculiar attractions for
Lady Blessington. Lord Normanby was then thirty years of
age, in the incipient stage of fashionable authorship, beginning:

102 SOJOURN IN FLORENCE.

to write novels, in the habit of contributing to albums, ambi
tious of politics, and exhibiting his turn for them by occasional
prose articles for revie\vs and magazines.

The riessingtons, though they had retraced their steps to
ward the North, were now veering between Florence, Genoa,
and Pisa, and seem to have seldom turne-4 their thoughts home
ward. St. James's Square was beginning to disappear from
their recollections. Those connected with Lord Blessington by
the ties of blood residing in his own country were seldom
thought of; new scenes and new acquaintances appear to have
taken fast hold of his tastes and feelings.

AYhen Lord Blessington quitted England in September, 1822,
he had four children; his eldest son, Charles John GJardiner,
born in Portman Square, London, the 3d of February, 1810, was
then twelve years of <ige.

Kis eldest daughter, Lmilie R,osalie Hamilton, commonly call
ed Lady Mary Gardiner, born in Manchester Square the 24th
of June, 1811, was then (iu 1822) eleven years of age. His
legitimate daughter, the lion. Harriet Anne Jane Frances, com
monly called Lady Harriet Gardiner, born in Seymour Place the
5th of August, 1812, was then ten years of age ; and his legiti
mate son, the Hon. Luke Gardiner, commonly called Lord Mount-
joy, born in 1813, was then nine years of age. The eldest son,
Charles John Gardiner, had been placed at school ; the two
daughters and the yonnsr Lord Mountjoy had been left under
the care of Lady Harriet Gardiner, the sister of Lord Blessing-
ton, who was then residing in Dublin, at the house of the Bishop
of Ossory, the brother-in-law of Lord Blessington, in Merrion
Square, South.

The Dowager Lady Mountjoy (the second wife of the first
Lord Mountjoy) was then also living in Dublin.*

The Gth of April, 1823, Lady Blessington mentions in her diary
at Genoa the news, having just reached Lord Blessington Vy
* In August, 1839, the Right Hon. Margaret Viscountess Mountjoy died in
DuMin :it ;>n advr.nced age. She was the second wife of the Right lion. Luke
(jardincr, Lord Viscount Mountjoy, father of the late Earl of Blessington by a
former marriage. She married Viscount Mountjoy in 1793, and became a widow
in 1798. She resided chiefly in Dublin for many years previous to her decease.

SOJOURN IN GENOA.

103

courier from London, of the death of his son and heir, the young
Lord Mouutjoy, on the 26th of March preceding.

The boy was only in his tenth year. He was the only legiti
mate son of Lord Blessington, and by his death his lordship was
enabled to make a disposition of his property of a very strange
nature — a disposition of it which it is impossible to speak of in
any terms except those of reprehension, and of astonishment at
the fatuity manifested in the arrangements made by his lord
ship, and in the contemplated disposal of a daughter's hand
without reference to her inclinations or wishes, or the feelings
of any member of her family.

Within a period of three months from the time of the death
of his only son, on the 22d of June, 1823, Lord Blessington sign
ed a document purporting to be a codicil to a former will, mak
ing a disposition of his property and a disposal of the happines?
of one or other of his then two living daughters — an arrange
ment at once imprudent, unnatural, and wanting in all the con
sideration that ought to have been expected at the hand of a
father for the children of a deceased wife. Partial insanity
might explain the anomalies that present themselves in the
course taken by Lord Blessington in regard to those children ;
and my firm conviction, the result of my own observation, is,
that at the period in question, when this will was made, Lord
Blessington could not be said to be in a state of perfect sanity
of mind ; but, on the contrary, was laboring under a particulai
kind of insanity, manifested by an infatuation and infirmity of
mind in his conduct with respect to his family affairs, though
quite sane on every other subject, which unfitted him to dispost
of his children at that juncture, and had assumed a more de
cided appearance of monomania after that disposal was made

At Genoa, June the 22d, 1823, Lord Blessington made a codi
cil to his will, wherein it is set forth that General Albert D'Or-
say (the father of the Count Alfred) had given his consent t
the union of his son with a daughter of his lordship. But it i?
evident, from the terms of this document, that it was then op
tional with the count to select either of the daughters of hit
lordship .

104 SOJOURN IN GENOA.

CODICIL.

" GENOA, June 2d, 1823.

" Having had the misfortune to lose my beloved son Luke
Wellington, and having entered into engagements with Alfred,
Comte D'0rsay,that an alliance should take place between him
and my daughter, which engagement has been sanctioned by
Albert, Count D'Orsay, general, &c., in the service of France,
this is to declare and publish my desire to leave to the said
Alfred D'Orsay my estates in the city and county of Dublin
(subject, however, to the annuity of three thousand per annum,
which sum is to include the settlement of one thousand per an
num to my wife, Margaret, Countess of Blesiiiton, subject also
to that portion of debt, whether by annuity or mortgage, to which
my executor and trustee, Luke Norman, shall consider them to
be subjected), for his and her use, whether it be Mary (baptized
Smilie) Rosalie Hamilton, or Harriet Anne Jane Frances, and
to their heirs male, the said Alfred and said Mary, or Harriet,
forever in default of issue male, to follow the provisions of the
will and testament.

" I make also the said Alfred D'Orsay sole guardian of my son
Charles John, and my sister, Harriet Gardiner, guardian of my
daughters, until they, the daughters, arrive at the age of sixteen,
at which age I consider that they will be marriageable.

" I also bequeath to Luke Norman my estates in the county
of Tyrone, &c., in trust for my son, Charles John, whom I desire
to take the name of Stewart Gardiner, until he shall arrive at
the age of twenty-five, allowing for his education such sums as
Alfred D'Orsay may think necessary, and one thousand per an
num from twenty-one to twenty-five.

" Done at Genoa, life being uncertain, at eight o'clock on the
morning of Monday, June the second, one thousand eight hund
red and twenty -three. BLESIXTOX."

I find in the papers of Lady Blessington a letter of a noble
lord, dated September 20th, 1836, inclosing a copy of the codicil
above mentioned, sent to him for an opinion, and the following
reference to it of the great legal authority. " Inclosed is the

LORD BLESSilNGTON'S WILL.

105

opinion. I regret that it is not, and can not be more favor
able :

" I have read the statement, will, and codicil, and am of opin
ion that the legatee is liable for the rent and taxes, and subject
to all the covenants of the lease."

At the date of this letter, Lord Blessington had been dead
about six years.

On the 31st of August, 1823, Lord Blessington executed his
last will and testament, formally carrying out the intentions, in
respect to the marriage of one of his daughters, briefly express
ed in the preceding codicil. This will was executed only two
months later than the document above referred to ; and it mer
its attention, that the provision made for the Countess of Bless
ington, in the former codicil, of an annuity of £3000, inclusive
of a preceding marriage settlement of £1000 a year, is reduced
in the will of the 31st of August to £2000 a year, including the
marriage settlement of .£1000 per annum ; so that in after
years, when it was generally believed that Lady Blessington had
an income of £3000 a year, she in reality had only £2000.

EXTRACTED FROM THE REGISTRY OF HIS MAJESTY^ COURT OF
PREROGATIVE IN IRELAND.

" This is the last will arid testament of me, Charles John, Earl
of Blessington, of that part of the united kingdom called Ireland.
I give Luke Norman, Esquire, for and during the time he shall
continue agent of my estates, in the county and city of Dublin,
and in the county of Tyrone, twelve hundred pounds per annum,
in lieu of receivers' fees. I appoint Alfred D'Orsay, Count of
], in France, Luke Norman, Esquire, and Alexander
Worthington, Esquire, my executors ; and I give unto each of
them one thousand pounds. I give to Isabella Birnly, Michael
McDonough, and John Bullock, one hundred pounds each. I
give and devise my real and personal estate to said Alfred D'Or
say, Luke Norman, and Alexander Worthington, for the follow
ing purposes : First, for the payment of two thousand pounds,
British, per annum (inclusive of one thousand pounds settled on
her at the time of my marriage), to my wife Margarette, or

E2

106 LORD BLESSINGTON'S WILL.

Margaret, Countess of Blessington ; and I give to her all her own
jewels, requesting that she may divide my late wife's jewels
between my two daughters at the time of her decease. 1 give
to Robert Power and Mary Anne Power one thousand pounds
each. I give to my daughter Harriet Anne Jane Frances, com
monly called Lady Harriet, born at my house at Seymour Place,
London, on or about the 3d day of August, 1812, all my estates
in the county and city of Dublin, subject to the following charge.
Provided she intermarry with my friend, and intended son-in-
law, Alfred D'Orsay, I bequeath her the sum of ten thousand
pounds only. 1 give to rny daughter Emilic Rosalie Hamilton,
generally called Lady Mary Gardiner, born in Manchester Square,
on the 24th June, 1811, whom I now acknowledge and adopt as
my daughter, the sum of twenty thousand pounds.

" In case the said Alfred D'Orsay intermarries with the said
Emilic, otherwise Mary Gardiner, 1 bequeath to her my estates
in the county and city of Dublin. The annuity of two thousand
pounds per annum, British, to be paid to my beloved wife out
of the said estates. I give to my son Charles .John, who 1 de
sire may take the name of Stewart Gardiner, born in Portman
Square, on the 3d day of February, 1810, all my estates in the
county of Tyrone, subject to the following charges ; also the re
version of my Dublin estates, in case of male issue of said
daughters. In case of male issue, lawfully begotten, I leave
these estates to the second son of Alfred D'Orsay and my daugh
ter ; or if only one son, to him, in case of failure to male issue,
to go to the male issue of rny other daughter. My estates are
to be subject in the first instance to the payment of my debts.
I give to my wife the lease of my house in London, at the ex
piration of which the furniture, books, ice., &c., are to be re
moved to the intended residence at Mountjoy Forest ; and I di
rect that the said house be built according to the plan now laid
down, and do empower my said executors to borrow money for
the said purpose. I give to rny wife all rny carriages, her para
phernalia and plate. I give to my son Charles John rny plate,
wardrobe, swords, cVc., &c,., &c. I appoint Alfred D'Orsay
guardian of rny son Charles John until he arrives at the age of

RETURN TO ROME.

10;

twenty-five years, the settlement of twelve thousand pounds t<
be null and void on his obtaining the Tyrone estates. I appoin'
my beloved wife guardian of my daughter Harriet Anne ; an
I appoint my sister Harriet guardian of my daughter commonl
called Lady Mary. I give to Isabella McDougal, of Perth, or,
hundred pounds per annum for her life, it being bequeathed hi
by my first wife, Mary Campbell, Viscountess Mountjoy. I giv
to the National Gallery, intended to be formed in London ui:
der royal protection, my picture of the ' Three Graces,' by Si
Joshua Reynolds, with a desire that ' The gift of Charles John
Earl of Blessington,' may be affixed to the said picture, as ai
encouragement to others to contribute to the said collection. .
give to my sister, Harriet Gardiner, five hundred pounds pc:
annum for her natural life. I revoke all other wills by m
made, and declare this to be my last will and testament. I,
witness whereof, I have to this my last will, contained in fiv
sheets of paper, set to the first four my hand, and to this, th
fifth and last, my hand and seal, this 31st day of August, 1822
Blessington seal."

The marriage, then, of Count D'Orsay with a daughter qf Lor
Blessington we find determined on at Genoa so early as the 2
of June, 1823 ; and it was not till the 1st of December, 1827
four years and a half subsequently to that determination, tha
the long-contemplated event took place.

In December, 1827, the Blessingtons returned to Rome froii
Florence, after a sojourn there of upward of four months.

They engaged the two principal floors of the Palazzo Negro
ni, for six months certain, at the rent of 100 guineas a month
(at the rate of 1200 guineas a year).* This abode though norn
inally furnished, had to be further provided with hired " mei
lies" the cost of which was about twenty pounds a month. Tl
seeds of the Encumbered Estates Court were being sown in It;:
ly, as well as in other Continental countries, pretty extensive]
some thirty years ago by our Irish landed proprietors.

* While this enormous expenditure for house accommodation was going on
Italy, the noble mansion in St. James's Square, in London, and the Irish re
dence, Mountjoy HOU?P, on the Tyrone estate, were kept up by Lord Blessingt<

108 SOJOURN IN ROME.

In the month of March, 1828, on my return from the East, I
visited the Blessingtons at the Palazzo Negroni, and there, for
the first time, I beheld the recently married daughter of the
Earl of Blessington.

Had I been a member of their family, I could not have been
received with greater kindness and warmth of feeling.

During rny stay in Rome, I dined with them most days, and
passed overy evening at their conversaziones.

Their salons, as at Naples, were regularly filled every even
ing with the elite of the distinguished foreigners and natives,
artists and literati of the Eternal City.

The Count D'Orsay had been married the 1st of December,
1827, to Lady Harriet Frances Gardiner, who was then fifteen
years of age and four months.

It was an unhappy marriage, and nothing to any useful pur
pose can be said of it except that Lord Blessington sacrificed his
child's happiness by causing her to marry, without consulting
her inclinations or her interests.

Taken from school without any knowledge of the world, ac
quaintance with society, or its usages and forms, wholly inexpe
rienced, transferred to the care of strangers, arid naturally in
disposed to any exertion that might lead to efforts to conciliate
them, she was brought from her own country to a distant land,
to wed a man she had never seen up to the period of her arri
val in Italy, where, Avithin a few weeks of her first meeting with
that foreign gentleman, who had been on terms of intimacy with
her father, she was destined to become his bride.

Lady Harriet was exceedingly girlish-looking, pale and rather
inanimate in expression, silent and reserved ; there was no ap
pearance of familiarity with any one around her ; no air or look
of womanhood, no semblance of satisfaction in her new position
were to be observed in her demeanor or deportment. &he sel
dom or never spoke, she was little noticed, she was looked on
as a mere school-girl ; I think her feelings were crushed, re
pressed, and her emotions driven inward by the sense of slight
and indifference, and by the strangeness and coldness of every
thing aronnd her ; and she became indifferent, and strange arid

SOJOURN IN ROME. 109

cold, and apparently devoid of all vivacity and interest in socie
ty, or in the company of any person in it. People were mistaken
in her, and she, perhaps, was also mistaken in others. Her fa
ther's act had led to all these misconceptions and misconstruc
tions, ending in suspicions, animosities, aversions, and total es
trangements.

In the course of a few years, the girl of childish mien arid
listless looks, who was so silent and apparently inanimate, be
came a person of remarkable beauty, spirituclle, and intelligent,
the reverse in all respects of what she was considered where
she was misplaced arid misunderstood.*

A few days before I quitted Rome for England, I received a
kind letter from Lord Blessington to his friend John Gait, which
I never had an opportunity of delivering'. This letter of his
lordship was dated Rome, March, 6, 1828.

ci Rome, March 6, 1828.

" MY DEAR GALT, — The bearer of this letter, Mr. Madden, is a gentleman
of literary acquirement and talent. He has lately returned from the East, and,
besides an account of deserts and Arabs, Turks and Greeks, he will be able
to give you an account of your old friends at Rome.

"• Believe me, yours most truly, BLESSINGTON.

"John Gait, Esq."

May the 7th, 1828, Mr. Mills gave a farewell dinner to the
Blessingtons at his villa Palatina, a day or two before their de
parture from Rome. A party of the friends of the Blessingtons
were invited to meet them, and the final meeting and separa
tion were any thing but joyous.

" Schemes of future meeting, too faintly spoken to cheat into
hope of their speedy fulfillment, furnished the general topic ; and
some were there, already stricken with maladies, the harbin
gers of death — and they, too, spoke of again meeting ! Yet who

* Lady Harriet D'Orsay and her aunt, Miss Gardiner, visited the Continent in
the latter part of 1833 or beginning of 1834. In September, 1835, Lady Harriet
and her sister, Miss Emily Gardiner, were in Dublin, residing with their aunt.
Shortly after, Miss Emily Gardiner was married to a Mr. Charles White. Mr.
White some years ago traveled a good deal, principally in the East, wrote some
rtorks of light literature, and an account of bis travels. As a gentleman of good
education, agreeable manners and conversation, he was known to the frequenters
of Gore House many years ajro. He had resided in many parts of the Continent,
and latterly altogether in Belgium. Mrs. White died in Paris about ten years ago.

HO SOJOURN IN ROME.

can say whether the young and the healthy may not be sum
moned from life before those whose infirmities alarm us for their
long continuance in it?

"And there were with me two persons, to whom every ruin
and every spot in view were ' familiar as household words ;'
men who had explored them all, with the feelings of the histo
rian, the research of the antiquarian, and the reflections of the
philosopher — Sir "William Gell and Mr. Dodwell ; both advanced
toward the downward path of life, every step of which rapidly
abridges the journey, and consequently reminds parting friends
of the probability that each farewell may be the last. There
was our host, seated in a paradise of his own creation, based on
the ruins of the palace of the Caesars, yet, forgetful for the mo
ment of the mutability of fortune of which such striking memo
rials were before his eyes, thinking only that we were on the
eve of parting. Mrs. Dodwell was there, her lustrous eyes often
dimmed by a tear of regret at our separation, but her rare beau
ty in no way diminished by the sadness that clouded a face al
ways lovely."

Sir "William Gell and Count Paul Esterhazy carne to the Pa
lazzo Negroni to see the Blessingtons take their departure.
" Poor Gell !" says Lady Blessington in her diary, " I still seem
to feel the pressure of his hand, and the tears that bedewed
mine, as he pressed it to his lips, and murmured his fears that
we should meet no more.

" * You have been visiting our friend Drummond's grave to
day,' said he, ' and if you ever come to Italy again, you will find
me in mine.' '

This was in the early part of May, 1828, and in the month of
April, 1836, the accomplished, witty, ever jocund and facetious
Sir "William Gell was in his grave.

Lady P)lessington, quitting Rome, speaks of her sad present
iment that she should see the Eternal City no more. She de
scants in her diary on the uncertainty of life, and especially in
the case of those older or more infirm than ourselves, as if we
were more exempt from danger and death than they. " Strange
delusion ! that while we tremble for those dear to us, the con-

DEPARTURE FROM ROME. m

viction of the irrevocable certainty of our own dissolution is less
vividly felt ! we picture our own death as remote, and conse
quently less to be dreaded ; and even when most impressed with
the awful conviction that we, like all other mortals, must pass
away, though our reason acknowledges the truth, our hearts re
fuse to believe that the event may be near."

The " event" was then twenty-one years distant from her own
door of life.

From Pbome the Blessingtons proceeded to Loretto, where they
visited the shrine of the Santa Casa. " The pious votaries of
superstition," the folly of their munificence, wasting jewels " to
decorate an idol," the tawdry appearance of " the glittering toy
shop," " the heterogeneous mixture of saints and sybils," of
pagan rites and superstitious practices, came in for a pretty large
share of the customary reprehension of English travelers from
Lady Blessington, the value of which, of course, mainly depends
on the sincerity of the reprover.

In the present instance, however, Lady Blessington was cer
tainly not so much proclaiming her own sentiments as writing
up to the readable mark of those who were to be her public.

From Loretto the travelers proceeded to Ancona and Ravenna,
and in the latter place a spectacle was witnessed which Lady
Blessington has described in her published diary ; but one very
striking circumstance connected with it is not mentioned in the
diary, but was told to me by her ladyship.

"Various were the conjectures we formed as to the probable
cause of the desertion of the silent and solitary city through
which we were pacing, and vainly did AVC look around in search
of some one of whom to demand an explanation of it ; when, on
turning the corner of a larger street or place than wre had hith
erto passed, the mystery was solved in a manner that shocked
our feelings not a little, for we suddenly carne almost in per
sonal contact with the bodies of three men hanging from bars
erected for the purpose of suspending them. Never did I be
hold so fearful a sight ! The ghastly faces were rendered still
more appalling by the floating matted locks and long beards,
which, as the bodies were agitated into movement by the wind,

vISIT T0 PADUA AND VERONA.

moved backward and forward. The eyes seemed starting from
their sockets, and the tongues protruded from the distended lips,
as if in horrid mockery. I felt transfixed by the terrible sight,
from which I could not avert my gaze ; and each movement of
the bodies seemed to invest them with some new features of
horror. A party of soldiers of the Pope guarded the place of
execution, and paced up and down with gloomy looks, in which
fear was more evident than disgust. Within view of the spot
stood the tomb of Dante, whose ' Inferno' offers scarcely a more
hideous picture than the one presented to our contemplation.
The papal uniform, too, proclaiming that the deaths of these
unfortunate men had been inflicted by order of him who pro
fessed to be the vicar of the Father of Mercy on earth, added
to the horror of the sight."*

Lady Blessington informed me there was another person who
witnessed this horrid spectacle, and who was more strongly af
fected by it than any of the party. That person was a noble
marquis, of some celebrity in Ireland, who, traveling the same
route as the Blessingtons, had left his own caleche, and entered
that of Lord and Lady Blessington ; and beholding the dead
bodies suspended from the gallows, became deadly pale and
almost insensible.

Ferrara and Padua were next visited by the Blessingtons on
their route to Venice. In the lattev city they fixed their res
idence for several weeks ; and the journals of Lady Blessington
abound with evidence of the excellent use she made of her time
and talents in visiting remarkable monuments and recording
her observations.

At Venice the Blessm ions again made the acquaintance of
their old friend, Walter ravage Landor. Verona was next vis
ited by them on their route to Milan.

In her diary she speaks of having spent several hours in the
Ambrosian Library, conducted through it by the Abbe Bentivo-
glio, a man of great erudition, whom Lady Blessington had
known in Naples, a friend of the good Archbishop of Tarento.
The library contains 50,000 volumes and 10,000 manuscripts;

* Tho Idler ia Italy, vol. iii., p. 33.

THE BLESSINGTONS AT MILAN. 113

and among its treasures, the "Virgil" that had "belonged to Pe
trarch, in which is his note to Laura. The next object that ex
cited Lady Blessington's attention was a lock of golden hair of
Lucretia Borgia, the daughter of Alexander the Sixth. Once
before she saw a lock of that same golden hair on the breast
of Byron, consisting of about twenty fair hairs, resembling fine
threads of gold, which he had obtained from the ringlet at the
Ambrosian Library, and always wore.

Nine or ten letters from Lucretia Borgia to the Cardinal Bem-
bo are placed in a casket, with the lock of hair she sent to him.
Lady Blessington makes no mention in her journal of having
been given a small tress of this golden hair of the too celebrated
Lucretia ; but that precious gift came into my hands among the
other papers of Lady Blessington ; and in her hand-writing of
the envelope that incloses it, it is stated, that the hair in ques
tion was given to her by the Abbe Bentivoglio, of the Ambrosian
Library, a descendant of the Bembo family.

There is a remarkable reference to the hair of Lucretia Bor
gia in the " New Monthly Magazine :"

" Auburn is a rare and glorious color, and I suspect will al
ways be more admired by us of the North, where the fair com
plexions that recommend golden hair are as easy to be met
with as they are difficult in the ^outh. Ovid and Aiiacreon,
the two greatest masters of the ancient world in painting ex
ternal beauty, both seem to have preferred it to golden, not
withstanding the popular cry in the other's favor : unless, in
deed, the hair they speak of is too dark in its ground for auburn.

" Perhaps the true auburn is something more lustrous through
out, and more metallic than this. The cedar, with the bark
stripped, looks more like it. At all events, that it is not the
golden hair of the ancients has been proved to rue beyond a
doubt by a memorandum in my possession, worth a thousand
treatises of the learned. This is a solitary hair of the famous
Lucretia Borgia, whom Ariosto has so praised for her virtues, and
whom the rest of the world is so contented to call a wretch. It
was given rne by a wild acquaintance, who stole it from a lock
of her hair preserved in the Ambrosian Library at Milan. On
the envelope he put <i happy motto,

114 THE BLESSINGTONS AT MILAN.

*' ' And beauty draws us with a single hair.'

"If ever hair was golden, it is this. It is not red, it is not
yellow, it is not auburn ; it is golden, and nothing else ; and,
though natural-looking too, must have had a surprising appear
ance in the mass. Lucrctia, beautiful in every respect, must
have looked like a vision in a picture — an angel from the sun."*

As an example of the happy style, and just views, and cor
rect judgment of Lady .Dlcssington, 1 may cite the following pas
sage, in reference to a visit to the subterranean shrine of St.
Carlo Borromeo, in the Duomo, the sarcophagus of rock crystal
which preserves the mortal remains of the renowned prelate in
pontifical attire :

" Carlo Borromeo was one of the most remarkable men to
whom Italy has ever given birth ; and those who might be dis
posed to undervalue the canonized saint, must feel a reverence
for the memory of the man, whose patriotism, courage, and char
ity entitle his name to the esteem of posterity. Elevated to
the rank of cardinal at the early age of twenty-two, his conduct
justified the partiality of his uncle, Pope Pius IV., who conferred
this dignity on him. As a scholar no less than as a divine was
this excellent man distinguished ; but his courageous and un
ceasing exertions during the plague that ravaged his country in
1576 are beyond all praise. These are remembered with a
feeling of lively admiration, that the costly trappings and brill
iant diamonds which decorate his remains might fail to awaken
for the saint; and we turned from the crystal sarcophagus arid
its glittering ornaments to reflect on the more imperishable mon
ument of his virtues — the fame they have left behind.

•' I could not contemplate the crucifix borne by this good and
great man in the procession during the fearful plague without
a sentiment of profound reverence. It is carefully preserved
under a glass case, and, I confess, appears to me to be a far
more befitting monument than the costly sarcophagus of rook
crystal to the glory of him who, actuated by his deep faith in
it, was enabled to fulfill duties from which the less pious and
charitable shrank back in terror. "f

* New Monthly Mag., part iii., 1825. t The Idler in Italy, vol. iii., p. 299.

RESIDENCE IN PARIS. H5

From Milan the Blessingtoris turned their steps at length in
a homeward direction, at least toward Paris, and at the close of
1828 once more found themselves in their old quarters at Ge-
noa. Five years previously, Byron often stood conversing with
Lady Blessington on the balcony of her hotel, or walked about
the gardens of it with her. The several spots where she re
membered to have seen him distinctly recalled him to her mem
ory. She again seemed to look upon him, to see his features,
to perceive his form, " to hear the sound of that clear, low, and
musical voice, never more to be heard on earth." But one day,
while these sweot and bitter fancies were presenting themselves
to her imagination, she saw a young lady, an English girl, who
resembled Byron in an extraordinary degree, accompanied by
an elderly lady. That English girl was " Ada, sole daughter
.of my house and heart," and the elderly lady was her mother,
the widow of Lord Byron.

The City of Palaces had few attractions on this last visit for
Lady Blessington.

One episode more in the Italian journals is narrated, and we
come to the concluding line : " We have bidden farewell to our
old and well-remembered haunts at Genoa, and to-morrow we
leave it, and perhaps forever!"

Here ends the second phase in the career I have before refer
red to — the Italian life of Lady Blessington.

CHAPTER VI.

RETURN TO PARIS IN JUNE, 1828. RESIDENCE THERE. DEATH

OF LORD BLESSIXGTON. DEPARTURE OF LADY BLESSINGTON

FOR ENGLAND IN NOVEMBER, 1830.

IN June, 1828, the Blessingtons arrived in Paris, at the ex
piration of six years from the period of their former sojourn
there. Their first visitors were the Due and Duchesse de
Guiche ; the latter " radiant in health and beauty," the Due
looking, as he always did, " more distingue than any one else —
the perfect beau ideal of a gentleman."

116 RESIDENCE IN PARIS.

The Blcssingtons took up their abode in the Hotel de Terasse,
Rue de Rivoli. After some time they rented the splendid man
sion of the Mareehal Xey, in the Rue de Bourbons, the princi
pal apartments of which looked on the Seine, and commanded
\ a delightful view of the Tuilleries Gardens. This hotel was a
type of the splendor that marked the dwellings of the imperial
I noblesse.

The rent of this hotel was enormously high, and the expense
which the new inmates went to in adding to the splendor of its
decorations and furniture was on a scale of magnificence more
commensurate with the income of a prince of some vieUe cuitr
than with that of an Irish landlord.

AYith the aid of '' those magicians," the French upholsterers,
the Hotel Xcy soon assumed a wonderful aspect of renewed
splendor. The principal drawing-room had a carpet of dark
crimson, with a gold-colored border, with wreaths of flowers of
brightest hues. The curtains were of crimson satin, with em
bossed borders of gold color, and the »sofas, bergeres, fauteuils,
•UK! chairs, were richly carved and gilt, and covered with satin,
to correspond with the curtains. Gilt consoles and chiffonicres,
on which marble tops were placed wherever they could be dis
posed ; larjje mirrors, gorgeous buhl cabinets, costly pcndulcs of
bronze, magnificent candelabras, abounded in the long suite of
salons, boudoirs, and sitting-rooms. The furniture of the bed
room was kept a secret by Lord Blessington till quite completed,
in order to give a surprise to her ladyship — when its surpassing
splendor was to burst upon her all at once — at the first view of
this apartment. '; The only complaint I ever have to make of
his taste," observes her ladyship, " is its too great splendor. . .
. . . . "\\ c feel like children with a new plaything in our beau
tiful house ; but how, after it, shall we ever be able to reconcile
ourselves to the comparatively dingy rooms in >St. James's
Square, which no furniture or decoration could render any thing
like the Hotel Key?"*

At length, '; the scheme laid by Lord Blessington" to surprise
his lady — " for he delighted in such plans" — was revealed on

Th<- Idler in Franco, vol. j., p. 117.

RESIDENCE IN IRAKIS. 117

the doors of the chambre a coucher and dressing-room being
thrown open. " The whole fitting up," says Lady Blessington,
" is in exquisite taste ; and, as usual, when my most gallant of
all gallant husbands that it ever fell to the happy lot of woman
to possess interferes, no expense has been spared. The bed,
which is silvered instead of gilt, rests on the backs of two large
silver swans, so exquisitely sculptured that every feather is in
alto-relievo, and looks as fleecy as those of the living bird.
The recess in which it is placed is lined with white fluted silk,
bordered with blue embossed lace ; and from the columns that
support the frieze of the recess, pale blue silk curtains, lined
with white, are hung, which, who ti drawn, conceal the recess
altogether."

In one of her letters she enlarges on this subject.

"A silvered sofa has been made, to fit the side of the room
opposite the fire-place, near to which stands a most inviting Lcr-
gcrc. An escritoire occupies one panel, a book-stand the other,
and a rich coffer for jewels forms a pendant to a similar one for
lace or India shawls. A carpet of uncut pile, of a pale blue, a
silver lamp, and a Psyche glass ; the ornaments, silvered, to cor
respond with the decorations of the chamber, complete the fur
niture. The hangings of the dressing-room are of blue silk,
covered with lace, and trimmed with rich frills of the same ma
terial, as are also the dressing-stands and ehaire longnc, and the
carpet and lamp are similar to those of the bed. A toilet-table
stands before the window, and small jardinieres are placed in
front of each panel of looking-glass, but so low as not to impede
a full view of the person dressing in this beautiful little sanc
tuary. The salle de bain is draped with white muslin, trimmed
with lace ; and the sofa arid the lergere. arc covered with the
same. The bath is of marble, inserted in the floor, with which
its surface is level. On the ceiling over it is a painting of Flora,
scattering flowers with one hand, while from the other is sus
pended an alabaster lamp in the form of a lotus."

Poor Lady Blessington, summing up the wonderful effects of
the various embellishments and decorations, the sensations pro
duced by such luxuriant furniture, coffers for jewels and India

118 RESIDENCE IN PARIS.

shawls, gorgeous hangings, and glittering ornaments of every
kind, observes : " The effect of the whole is chastely beautiful,
and a queen could desire nothing better for her own private
apartments."

The gilt frame-work of the bed, resting on the backs of the
large silver swans, it does not do to think of when visiting the
Mountjoy Forest estate in Tyrone, that did belong to the late
Earl of Blesskigton, when one enters the cabin of one of the
now indigent peasantry, from the sweat of whose brow the
means were derived that were squandered in luxury in foreign
lands, luxury on a pai with any Oriental voluptuousness of which
we read in the adornment of palaces.

Lord Blessington, when fitting up the Hotel Key in this sump
tuous manner, was co-operating very largely indeed with others
of his order, equally improvident and profuse, in laying the
I foundation of the Encumbered Estates' Court Jurisdiction in
Ireland.

We are reminded, by the preceding account of the fitting up
of the Hotel Ney for the Blessingtons, of the imperial pomp of
one of the palaces of Napoleon, a short time only before 1m
downfall. At Fontainebleau, soon after the abdication of the em
peror, Haydon visited the palace, and thus describes the mag
nificence which was exhibited in the decoration and furniture
of that recent sojourn of imperial greatness :

"The chateau I found superb, beyond any palace near Paris.
It was furnished with fine taste. Napoleon's bed hung with
the richest Lyons green velvet, with painted roses, golden fringe
a foot deep ; a footstool of white satin, with gold stars ; the top
of the bed gilt, with casque and ostrich plumes, and a golden
eagle in the centre grappling laurel. Inside the bed was a mag
nificent mirror, and the room and ceiling were one mass of gold
en splendor. The panels of the sides were decorated in chiaro
scuro with the heads of the greatest men.

" No palace of any sultan of Bagdad or monarch of India ever
exceeded the voluptuous magnificence of these apartments."

Shortly before the passing of the Catholic Emancipation Act,
Lady Blessington received at Paris a letter from Lord Rosslyn,

VIEWS ON THE IMPROVEMENT OF IRELAND. 119

urging the attendance of Lord Blessington in his place in Par
liament, and his support of the Emancipation Act.

Lord Blessington, on receipt of Lord Rosslyn's letter, imme
diately proceeded from Paris to London, expressly to give his
vote in favor of the great measure of Emancipation.

" His going to England/' observes Lady Blessington, '* at this
moment, when he is lar from well, is no little sacrifice of per
sonal comfort ; but never did lie consider self when a duty was
to be performed. I wish the question was carried, and he safe
ly back airain. What would our political friends say if they
knew how strongly I urged him not to go, but to send his proxy
to Lord Rosslyn?"*

\\ hile Lord Blessington remained in London, i had the pleas
ure of seeing him on several occasions. A day or two before
his departure from London, I breakfasted with him at his resi
dence at St. James's -Square.

I never saw him to more advantage, or more deeply interest
ed on any public matter, than he seemed to be in the measure
he had come over to support, and which he deemed of the high
est importance to the true interests of Ireland.

Whatever the defects may have been in his character, in one
respect he was certainly faultless : he had a sincere love for his
country and for his countrymen.

The following fctateracnt of his opinions on the means of bet
tering the condition oi the country was made to me four years
previously to the period above-mentioned, when presenting me
with a letter of introduction to the British minister at Constan
tinople.!

" I wish you would, at Constantinople or Smyrna, turn your
thoughts to the subject of Ireland ; but it is a diincult task to

* The Idler in France, vol. ii., p. G.

t "Naples, August 15th, 1824.

" MY DEAR SIR, — I send you the letter for Lord Strangford, which I hope may
be useful to you. I trust the experiment you are about to make will be success
ful. You will have the advantage, at least, of seeing the world ; and a medical
man has very great opportunities of seeing the interior of Turkish modes of life.
Wishing you health and prosperity, I remain, yours very truly,

" BLESSINGTON.

"R. R. Madden, Esq."

120 MEWS OX THE IMPROVEMENT OF IRELAND.

encounter, as you say, for an Irishman indignant at many acts
of former oppression and injustiec. Upon the subject of repeal
of the "Union, I fear it would be worse than a negative measure.
"We are impoverished in money and talent. England has a su-
perabundaney of the one, and a sufficiency of the other, if she
will apply her materials to our good, ^end the Parliament back
to Dublin, and that city will, perhaps, flourish again ; but 1 fear
the same e fleet could not be produced through the kingdom ;
and if, to forward the views which I think absolutely necessary
for Ireland, the Commons imposed heavy taxes, being refused
aid from England, the people would have cause for dissatisfac
tion, and an Irishman's mode of expressing it is blows, and not
words. Let the Roman Catholic Church of Ireland separate it
self in toto from the Pope, and receive from the British Parlia
ment a respectable revenue. Establish a better mode of edu
cating the priesthood, take away the tithes, and pay the Reform
ed Church out of the public purse. Admit Catholics to the
houses of Parliament and the Bench, at the same time establish
ing throughout Ireland an extensive gendarmerie, not for polit
ical, but policial purposes, Make the nobility and gentry live
on their estates or sell them. Give a grant sufficient to cut ca-
iials in all directions. Establish co]onies of industrious citizens
in what are now barren districts. Let there be neither Ribbon-
men, Free-masons, or Orangemen. Let the offenders against
the public peace, of whatever party, be sent to the colonies.
Let the middling classes be taught that public money is levied
for the public good, and not for individual advantage, and then
Ireland will be, what it should be from its situation and with its
natural advantages, a gem in the ocean."

His lordship had returned from London only a few days, when,
one forenoon, feeling himself slightly indisposed, he took some
spoonfuls of eau de Melisse in water, and rode out, accompa
nied by his servant, in the heat of the day, along the Champs
Elysees.

lie had not proceeded far when he was suddenly attacked by
apoplexy, and was carried home in a state of insensibility, where
all means wexv, vrorteil to in vain for his relief.

LORD BLESSINGTON'S DEATH.

121

On the 23d of May, 1829, thus suddenly died Charles James
Gardiner, second Lord Blessington, in his forty-sixth year. He
was the only surviving son of the first marriage of Viscount
Mountjoy.

At the age of sixteen he succeeded his father, who was slain
at Ross, June 5th, 1798. He was elected a representative Peer
for Ireland about 1809, and was advanced to his earldom, June
22d, 1816.

Lord Blessington's remains were conveyed to Ireland, arid de
posited in the family vault, in St. Thomas's Church, Marlbor-
ough Street, where his father's remains were "buried, and also
those of his first wife ; of his son and heir, the Hon. Luke Will
iam Gardiner; of his sister Margaret, the wife of the Hon. John
Hely Hutchinson ; of his sister Louisa, wife of the Right Rev.
Dr. Fowler, Lord Bishop of Ossory ; and of his sister, the Hon.
Harriet Gardiner. In the church there is only one mural tablet
bearing an inscription in memory of any member of the Bless
ington family.

To the loved Memory
Of the HONORABLE MARGARET, Wife of

JOHN HELY HUTCHINSON, ESQ.,

Daughter of Luke Gardiner, Viscount Mountjoy,

Who fell at New Ross, in 1798,

At the head of his Regiment :
She died October 13, 1825, aged 29 years.

The remains of the husband of this lady, the Right Hon. John
Hely Hutchinson, third Earl of Donoughmore, were deposited in
the same vault, September 17, 1851. The earl died in his sixty-
fourth year.

In one of Mr. Landor's unpublished " Imaginary Conversa
tions," in which the discoursers are Lord Mountjoy, the father of
the Earl of Blessington, and Lord Edward Fitzgerald, there are
two notes written in 1829, immediately after the death of Lord
Blessington. In the first note Mr. Landor observes :

" Lord Mountjoy was killed in the beginning of the insurrec
tion of 1798 ; he left an only son, the Earl of Blessington, who
voted for the Union in the hope that it would be beneficial to

122 LETTER OF MR. LAN DOR.

Ireland,* though the project had suspended the erection of sev
eral streets and squares on his estate in Dublin, and it was proved
to him that he must lose by it two thirds of his rent-roll ; he
voted likewise in defense of Queen Caroline, seeing the insuffi
ciency of the evidence against her, and the villainy of the law
officers of the crown : he esteemed her little, and was person
ally attached to the king. For these votes, and for all he ever
gave, he deserves a place, as well as his father, in the memory
of both nations."

The second note thus refers to the recent death of Lord Bless-
ington.

u Scarcely is the ink yet dry upon my paper, when intelligence
reaches me of the sudden death of Lord Blcssington.

" Adieu, most pleasant companion ! Adieu, most warm-heart
ed friend ! Often and long, and never with slight emotion, shall
I think of the many hours we have spent together ; the light
seldom ending gravely ; the graArer always lightly.

" It will be well, and more than I can promise to myself, if
my regret at your loss shall hereafter be quieted by the assur
ance which she, who best knew your sentiments, has given me,
that by you, among the many, I was esteemed and beloved among
the few."

On the news of the death of Lord Blessihgton reaching Mr.
Landor, he addressed the following lines to the countess :

<; Baths of Lucca, June 6.

" DEAR LADY BLESSIXGTOX. — If I defer it any longer, I know not how or
when I shall be able to fulfill so melancholy a duty. The whole of this day I
have spent in that torpid depression, which you may feel without a great ca
lamity, and which others can never feel at all. Every one that knows me
knows the sentiments I bore toward that disinterested, and upright, and kind-
hearted man, than whom none was ever dearer or more delightful to his
friends. If to be condoled with by many, if to be esteemed and beloved by all
whom you have admitted to your society, is any comfort, that comfort at least
is yours. I know how inadequate it must lie at such a moment, but I know
too that the sentiment will survive when the bitterness of sorrow shall have
passed away. Yours very faithfully, W. S. LANDOR."

' Mr. Landor is mistaken. Lord Blessington did not vote for the Union —
R, R. M.

LETTERS.

123

In another letter to Lady Blessington, Mr. Landor thus ex
pressed himself on the same subject :

"July 21,1289.

" DEAR LADY BLESSINGTON, — Too well was I aware how great my pain
must be in reading your letter. So many hopes are thrown away from us by
this cruel and unexpected blow. I can not part with the one, of which the
greatness and the justness of your grief almost deprives me, that you will re
cover your health and spirits. If they could return at once, or very soon, you
would be unworthy of that love which the kindest and best of human beings
lavished on you. Longer life was not necessary for him to estimate your af
fection for him, and those graces of soul which your beauty in its brightest
day but faintly shadowed. He told me that you were requisite to his happi
ness, and that he could not live without you. Suppose, then, he had survived
you, his departure, in that case, could not have been so easy as it was, uncon
scious of pain, of giving it, or leaving it behind. I am comforted at the re
flection that so gentle a heart received no affliction from the anguish and de
spair of those he loved.

" You have often brought me over to your opinion after an obstinate rather
than a powerful contest ; let me, now I am more in the right, bring you over
by degrees to mine.

" And believe me, dear Lady Blessington, your ever devoted servant,

"W. S. LANDOR."

Dr. Richardson, the Eastern traveler, and former traveling
physician of Lord Blessington, in writing to Lady Blessington
from Rarnsgate, the 25th of April, 1832, on the death of her
husband, says,

" YOUR late lord is never absent from my mind ; during life he occupied the
largest share of my affections, his friendship was my greatest honor and pride,
and his memory is the dearest of all in the keeping of my heart. I feel his
loss every day of my life, and shall never cease to feel it till my eyes close on
all this scene of things till we meet again in another and a better world.

" Yours, my dear Lady Blessington, very sincerely,

" R. RICHARDSON."

At the time of the decease of Lord Blessington, his affairs
were greatly embarrassed. The enormous expenditure in
France and Italy, and in London also, previously to his departure
for the Continent in 1822, was not met by the rental of his vast
estates.

It will be seen by the schedules appended to the act of Par
liament for the sale of the Blessington estates (to be found in
the Appendix), that the rental of the properties referred to in

124 THE BLESSINGTON ESTATES.

the act was estimated, in 1846, at £22,718 14s. 7d. But when
his lordship succeeded to the title and estates, the rental was
about £30,000 a year.

In 1814 he sold a valuable property in the barony of Stra-
bane, in the county of Tyrone, the rental of which was very con
siderable. The remaining estates, by mismanagement, constant
changes of agents, the pressure of mortgages, and other causes
of ruin, arising out of absenteeism, improvidence, and embar
rassments, became much reduced.

The extent of the Mountjoy territory in Tyrone and Donegal,
into which Lord Blessington came to possession, may be imag
ined, when the extreme length of one of the Tyrone properties
could be described as " a ride of several miles."

The three estates of Lord Blessington in Tyrone were the fol
lowing :

1st. The JSTewtown Stewart estate, called Mountjoy Forest,
on which property the residence of Lord Blessington, " the Cot
tage," was situated, which was sold in 1846 or 1847.

2d. The Mountjoy estate near Killymoon produced £5000
or £6000 a year. The demesne, comprising one thousand nine
hundred acres, according to Mr. Graham's account, " the largest
demesne in Europe of any private gentleman's property," was
sold four or five years ago.

3d. Aughcrtain estate, near Clogher, the first portion of the
estreated Ulster lands which came into the possession of one of
the first adventurers in Ireland of the Stewart family, comprised
fourteen town lands ; it was sold for £98,000. The produce
of the sale of a large portion of the territory of the O'Ncil of
the Red Hand went to pay the debts of a French count to the
Jews and money-lenders of London.

In the county of Donegal there was another estate of the
Mountjoy family, named " Conroy ;" but this valuable property
had been sold previously to the death of Lord Blessington.

In 1813 Lord Blessington obtained advances of money from
the Globe Insurance Company, for which he gave them an an
nuity for one young life. Amount of annuity, £526.

In 1813 he got money again from the same company, for

CHARGES ON THE ESTATES.

125

which he gave an annuity for the life of A. Mocatta, a youth,
of £520.

In 1813 he got money from the company, for which he gave
an annuity for the life of William Coles, of £510.

In 1813 he obtained money from the same company, for
which he gave an annuity for the life of A. Angelo Tremonan-
do, of £527.

In 1814 he obtained money from A. Tremonando, and gave
a life annuity of £880.

In 1814, for other pecuniary accommodation, he gave an an
nuity to Alexander Nowel], for the lives of Frances and Henry
Josias Stracy, and Rev. T. Whittaker, of £1000.

In 1816 he obtained money advances from Henry Fauntleroy,
for which he gave an annuity for the lives of John Fauntleroy,
and William and James Watson, of £500.

In 1817 Lord Blessington borrowed largely money on mort
gages. In that year he raised on mortgage to Conyngham
M< Alpine, Esq., £11,076.

In 1821 he borrowed from the Westminster Insurance Com
pany, on mortgage, £25,000.

In 1825 he borrowed from the same company, on mortgage,
£5000.

In 1823 he borrowed from Thomas Tatham, Esq., on mort
gage, £4000.

, The following items give the principal amounts of annuities,
mortgages, judgments, and other debts, legacies, sums of mon
ey, and incumbrances charged upon or affecting the estate of
Charles John, Earl of Blessington, at the time of his decease :

Mortgages from 1783 to 1823 inclusive, £47,846.

Legacies of the late earl, £23,353.

Legacy to the Honorable Harriet Gardiner, to be raised only
on certain contingencies set forth in the will, £9230.

Settlement on marriage of Lady Harriet with Count D'Orsay,
£40,000.

Judgments, £13,268. Bond debts, £10,357.

Promissory notes, letters of acknowledgments, and I. 0. U.'s,
from 1808 to 1828, £10,122.

!20 DEEDS OF SETTLEMENT.

Simple contract debts due, or claimed to be due, to parties by
the Earl of Blessington, £6878.

Total of debts, incumbrances, and legacies of the Earl of
Blessington, set forth in the fourth schedule, £161,044.

But to this sum there is to be added that of annuities given,
by Lord Blessington to various parties, bankers, Jews, and oth
ers, to the amount of £7887.

By the fifth schedule appended to the act, it appears the
mortgages and sums of money which had been charged by the
Count D'Orsay on the estates of Lord Blessington from 1837 to
1845 amounted to £20,184.

An act of Parliament (Viet. 9, cap. 1) was passed the 18th of
June, 1846, "for vesting the real estates of the Earl of Bless
ington in trustees for sale, for the payment of his debts, and for
other purposes."

The act sets out with reciting a deed of settlement, dated 3d
of August, 1814, made shortly after the first marriage of the
earl.

By this deed, Josias Henry Stracey, Esq., of Berners Street, a
partner of Fauntleroy, the banker, was appointed a trustee over
all the Tyrone estates, for the purpose of securing to Lord Bless-
ingtou's son, Charles John Gardiner, a sum of £12,000 on his
coming of age, and the interest of that sum till he had obtained
the age of twenty-one.

The next deed recited is one of lease and release, dated 16th
of February, 1818, on the occasion of the intended marriage of
the earl with Margaret Farmer, of " Manchester Square, widow,"
settling one thousand a year on that lady in the event of that
marriage taking place ; which marriage eventually took place
the 16th of February, 1818.

The will of the earl, dated 31st of August, 1823, is next re
cited, bequeathing "£2000 British per annum to Lady Blessing-
ton (inclusive of £1000 settled on her at the time of his mar
riage), to Robert Power £1000, and Mary Anne Power £1000
each. To his daughter, Lady Harriet, all his estates in the
county of Dublin, subjected to certain charges," provided she
intermarried with his " friend and intended son-in-law. Alfred

DEEDS OF SETTLEMENT. 127

D'Orsay ;" and in the event of her refusal, he bequeathed to her
only the sum of £10,000. To his daughter Emilie Rosalie
Gardiner, commonly called Lady Mary Gardiner, whom he here
by acknowledged and adopted as his daughter, he left the sum
of £20,000 ; but in case she married Alfred D'Orsay, he be
queathed all his Dublin estates to her, chargeable, however,
with the payment of the annuity before mentioned to Lady
Blessington. To his son, Charles John Gardiner, he left all his
estates in Tyrone, subject to certain charges, also the reversion
of his Dublin estates in case of failure of male issue, lawfully
begotten, of said daughters.

[It is to be borne in mind, when this will was made, the 31st
of August, 1823, his lordship's daughter Harriet, whose mar
riage he provided for, being born the 3d of August, 1812, was
just eleven years of age.]

The act then goes on to recite a deed of settlement made in
contemplation of the marriage between Count and Countess
D'Orsay, dated 2d of November, 1827 ; the parties to this deed
being Lord Blessington of the first part, Count D'Orsay of the
second part, Lady Harriet Gardiner of the third part, the Due de
Guiche, lieutenant general and premier (ecuyer) of his royal
highness the Dauphin, and Robert Power, formerly captain of
the 2d Regiment of Foot, then residing at Mountjoy Forest, of
the fourth part.

The deed is stated to be for the purpose of making a provi
sion for the said Alfred, Count D'Orsay, and Lady Harriet Gar
diner, who is described as " then an infant of the age. of fifteen
years or thereabouts."

Lord Blessington bound himself by this deed to pay, within
twelve months after the solemnization of this marriage, the sum
of £20,000 British to the trustees, the Due de Guiche and Rob
ert Power ; and bound his executors, within twelve months after
his decease, to pay said trustees £20,000 more, to be invested
in the funds, and the interest thereof to be paid to Count D'Or
say, and after his decease to the said Lady Harriet during her
life ; the principal at her death to go to any issue by that mar
riage ; and in the event of failure of issue, to be held in trust

128 BEQUESTS OF LORD BLESSINGTON.

for the executor and administrator of the said Alfred, Count
D'Orsay.

Then the act recites the marriage of the Count D'Orsay with
Lady Harriet during the lifetime of the said earl, of there being
no issue by that marriage, and of their Icing separated in the year
1831, and having lived wholly separate from that time.*

The death of the earl is then mentioned, having occurred ori
the 25th of May, 1829, and the fact of the will being duly
proved in the Prerogative Court ; and it is also stated that his
lordship was possessed of estates in Kilkenny which were not
devised by his will ; that his lordship's son, Charles John Gar
diner, had filed a bill against Lady Blessington, Count and
Countess D'Orsay, in 1831 ; that the will was declared by a de
cree in Chancery well proven, and that the trusts therein speci
fied should be carried into execution ; that receivers should be
appointed ; that Luke Norrnaii should continue agent of the es
tates, and that an account should be taken of all debts and in-
cumbrances on the same ; that the 18th of June, 1834, the Mas
ter in Chancery reported on the charges arid debts on the estates,
and on the 14th of July, 1834, an order was made directing a
sum of j£500 to be paid yearly to the Count D'Orsay, and £450
to the Countess D'Orsay, for their maintenance.

Various bequests of his lordship are recited in this document :
to Lady Blessington he bequeathed the lease of his house in
London (in St. James's Square) ; at the expiration of the lease,
the furniture, books, &c., were to be removed to Mountjoy For
est estate in Tyrone, where a house was to be built according
to plans then laid down, empowering executors to borrow money
for the purpose. " All his carriages, her paraphernalia and
plate," he left also to his wife ; to his son John " his plate,
wardrobe, swords," &c., ixc. He appointed Alfred D'Orsay
guardian of his son Charles John Gardiner till he carne of age,
the previous settlement of JC12,000 to be null and void on his
obtaining the Tyrone estates. " He appointed his beloved wife
guardian of his daughter Harriet Anne, and appointed his sister

* The date of the deed of separation between the Count and Countess D'Orsay
is the 15th and 16th of February, 1838.

DEED OF SEPARATION. 129

Harriet guardian of his daughter commonly called Lady Mary."
To his sister, Miss Harriet Gardiner, he left an annuity for life
of £500.

A deed of separation between the Count and Countess D'Or-
say is referred to, setting forth that Count D'Orsay had granted
several annuities for his life to his creditors, with power to re
purchase the same, and had charged the interest on the two
sums of .£20,000 settled on him at the period of his marriage
by Lord Blessington, and that he required a sum to redeem the
same amounting to about £23,500.

That Countess D'Orsay also had incurred some debts, and re
quired a sum of £10,000, or thereabouts, to discharge the same ;
that Charles John Gardiner had incurred some debts, secured
by judgments on the Tyrone estates, amounting to £10,000;
and that Countess D'Orsay had entered into an agreement to
purchase all the interests and claims of the several parties to
whom bequests were made and debts were due, and that to pay
off said incumbrances and liabilities a sum of £120,500, ap
plicable to the purchase of Count D'Orsay's annuities and some
other purposes, would be required. By a subsequent agree
ment, the latter sum was raised to £180,000, "and such other
sums as might be found necessary" among other objects for se
curing to Count D'Orsay, within a period of ten years, a sum of
£42,000.

Eventually, by two orders of the Court of Chancery, one of the
6th of February, 1845, and another the 13th of February, 1846,
it was decreed the trustees, when the sanction of an act should
be procured, would be empowered to make sales of several es
tates to the amount of £350,000, to pay off all incumbrances
and claims.

The act for the sale of the Blessington estates was passed in
1846. Its provisions have been duly carried into execution. Of
the vast properties of the Mountjoys, there remains a remnant
of them, producing about £6000 a year, to be still disposed of.

Lord Blessington by his will put an end to the wealth, honor,
and territorial greatness of the ancient race of the Mountjoys.

Thus passes away the glory of " the English Pale" in Ireland.

F 2

THREE REMARKABLE WOMEN.

CHAPTER VII.

CONVERSATIONAL POWERS OF DISTINGUISHED PERSONS. SEA-
MORE PLACE AND GORE HOUSE LITERARY CIRCLES. RIVAL SA
LONS OF HOLLAND HOUSE, AND REUNIONS AT THE COUNTESS
OF CHARLEVILLE'S. — RESIDENCE OF LADY BLESSINGTON AT
SEAMORE PLACE FROM 1832 TO 1836, AND AT GORE HOUSE,
KENSINGTON GORE, FROM 1836 TO APRIL, 1849.

ABOUT twenty years ago there were three circles of fashion
able society in London, wherein the intellectual celebrities of
the time did chiefly congregate. Three very remarkable wom
en presided over them : the Countess of Blessington, the Count
ess of Charlevillc, and Lady Holland. The qualities, mental
and personal, of the ladies, differed very much ; but their tastes
concurred in one particular : each of them sought to make so
ciety in her house as agreeable as possible, to bring together as
much ability, wit, and intellectual acquirements as could be as
sembled and associated advantageously ; to elicit any kind, or
any amount, however small, of talent that any individual in
that society might possess, and to endeavor to make men of let
ters, art, or science, previously unacquainted, or estranged, or
disposed to stand aloof, and to isolate themselves in society, think
kindly and favorably of one another. I am not quite sure, how
ever, that a very kindly feeling toward each other prevailed
among the rival queens of London literary society.

The power and influence of Lady Blessington's intellectual
qualities consisted chiefly in her conversational talents. It would
be difficult to point out any particular excellence, and to say that
one constituted the peculiar charm of her conversation.

It was something of frankness and archness, without the least
mixture of ill nature, in every thing she said, of enjoucmcnt in
every thought she uttered, of fullness of confidence in the out-
spoakinp of her sentiments, and the apparent absence of ovory

LADY BLESSINGTON'S INTELLECTUAL QUALITIES. 131

arriere pensce in her mind, while she laughed out unpremeditat
ed ideas, and bo?i mots spontaneously elicited, in such joyous
tones, that it might be said she seldom talked without a smile
at least on her lips ; it was something of felicity in her mode
of expression, and freedom in it from all reserve, superadded to
the effect produced by singular loveliness of face, expressiveness
of look and gesture, and gracefulness of form and carriage, that
constituted the peculiar charm of the conversation of Lady Bless-
ington.

She seldom spoke at any length, never bored her hearers with
disquisitions, nor dogmatized on any subject, and very rarely
played the learned lady in discourse. She conversed with all
around her in " a give and take" mode of interchange of senti
ments. She expressed her opinions in short, smart, and telling
sentences ; brilliant things were thrown off with the utmost
ease ; one bon mot followed another, without pause or effort, for
a minute or two, and then, while her wit and humor were pro
ducing their desired effect, she would take care, by an apt word
or gesture, provocative of mirth and communicativeness, to draw
out the persons who were best fitted to shine in company, and
leave no intelligence, however humble, without affording it an
opportunity and an encouragement to make some display, even
in a single trite remark or telling observation in the course of
conversation.

How well Lady Blessington understood the excellencies and
art of brilliant and effective conversation, may be noticed in the
following observation :

" The conversation of Lamartirie," says Lady Blessington, " is
lively and brilliant. He is, I am persuaded, as amiable as he is
clever, with great sensibility, which is indicated in his counte
nance as well as it is proved in his works ; he possesses sufficient !
tact to conceal, in general society, every attribute peculiar to the .
poetical temperament, and to appear only as a well-informed,
well-bred, sensible man of the world. This tact is probably the
result of his diplomatic career, which, compelling a constant
friction with society, has induced the adoption of its usages."*
* The Idler in Italy, Par. ed., p. 372, 1839.

132 LADY BLESSINGTON'S INTELLECTUAL QUALITIES.

We are told that " books which make one think" are most
valued by people of high intelligence ; but conversation which
makes one think I do not think is the description of discourse
which would tell best in the salons, even of Gore House, when
it was most frequented by eminent literary men, artists, and
state politicians. Conversation which makes one laugh, which
tickles the imagination, which drives rapidly, pleasantly, and
lightly over the mind, and makes no deep impression on the
road of the understanding, which produces oblivion of passing
cares, and amuses for the time being, is the enjoyment in real
ity that is sought in what is called the brilliant circles of litera
ture and of art, a la mode. How does the conversation of such
circles tally with the taste for reading referred to in the follow
ing passage ?

" I, for my own part," says Archdeacon Hare, " have ever
gained the most profit, and the most pleasure also, from the
books which have made me think the most ; and when the dif
ficulties have once been overcome, these are the books which
have struck the deepest root, not only in my memory and under
standing, but likewise in my affections. If you would fertilize
the mind, the plow must be driven over and through it. The
gliding of wheels is easier and rapider, but only makes it harder
and more barren. Above all, in the present age of light read
ing, that is, of reading hastily, thoughtlessly, indiscriminately,
unfruitfully, when most books are forgotten as soon as they are
finished, and very many sooner, it is well if something heavier
is cast now arid then into the midst of the literary public. This
may scare and repel the weak ; it will rouse and attract the
stronger, and increase their strength by making them exert it.
Tn the sweat of the brow is the mind as well as the body to eat
its bread. Are writers, then, to be studiously difficult, and to tie
knots for the mere purpose of compelling their readers to untie
them ? Not so. Let them follow the bent of their own minds.
Let their style be the faithful mirror of their thoughts. Some
minds are too rapid, and vehement, arid redundant to flow along
iu lucid transparence ; some have to break over rocks, and to
force a way through obstacles which would have dammed them

LADY BLESSINGTON'S INTELLECTUAL QUALITIES. 133

in. Tacitus could not write like Caesar. Niebuhr could not write
like Goldsmith."*

Goldsmith's conversation, however, was not calculated to
make men in society either think or laugh much.

" Mr. Fox," we are told, in a recent biography, "declared that
he learned more from conversation than all the books he had
ever read. It often happens, indeed, that a short remark in con
versation contains the essence of a quarto volume."!

Lady Blessington had a particular turn for cramming a vast
deal of meaning into an exceeding small number of words. She
not only had a natural talent for condensing thoughts, and pro
ducing them in terse, vigorous, and happily-selected terms, but
she made a study of saying memorable things in short, smart
sentences, of conveying in a remark some idea of the import,
essence, and merits of an entire book.

Lord John Russell, in his Preface to the fifth volume of Moore's
"Memoirs," makes an observation, very just and singularly fe
licitous in its expression, in reference to the conversational
powers of Sir James Mackintosh and Sidney Smith:

" There are two kinds of colloquial wit which equally con
tribute to fame, though not equally to agreeable conversation.
The one is like a rocket in a dark air, which shoots at once into
the sky, and is the more surprising from the previous silence
and gloom ; the other is like that kind of fire-work which blazes
and bursts out in every direction, exploding at one moment, and
shining brightly in its course, and changing its shape and color
to many forms and many hues.

" The great delight of Sidney Smith was to produce a suc
cession of ludicrous images ; these followed each other with a
rapidity that scarcely left time to laugh ; he himself laughing
louder and with more enjoyment than any one. This electric
contact of mirth came and went with the occasion ; it can not
be repeated or reproduced ; any thing would give occasion to
it

"Of all those whose conversation is referred to by Moore, Sir
James Mackintosh wafe the ablest, the most brilliant, and the

* Guesses at Truth. f Moore's Memoirs.

134 LADY BLESSINGTON'S INTELLECTUAL QUALITIES.

best informed. A most competent judge in this matter has said,
' Till subdued by age and illness, his conversation was more
brilliant and instructive than that of any human being I ever
had the good fortune to be acquainted with.' His stores of
learning were vast, and of those kinds which, both in serious
and in light conversation, are most available."

It would be idle to compare the conversational talents of Lady
Blessingtoii with those of Sidney Smith or Sir James Mackin
tosh in any respect but one, namely, the power of making light
matters appear of moment in society, dull things brilliant, and
bright thoughts, given utterance to even in sport, contribute to
the purposes of good humor, tending to enliven, amuse, and ex
hilarate people's minds in society when sought for amusement
and relaxation.

The perfection of conversational talent is said " to be able to
.say something on any subject that may be started, without be
traying any anxiety or impatience to say it." The Prince de
Ligrie, a great authority in conversational matters, said, "Ce qui
coute le plus pour plaire, c'est de cacher que 1' 011 s'cnnuie. Ce
ivest pas en amusant qu'on plait. On n'amuse pas meme si
1'on s'amuse ; c'est en faisaiit croire que I'oii s'amuse."

Madame de Stael spoke of conversation emphatically as an
art:

" To succeed in conversation, we must possess the tact of per
ceiving clearly, and at every instant, the impression made on
those with whom we converse ; that which they would fain con
ceal, as well as that which they would willingly exaggerate — the
inward satisfaction of some, the forced smiles of others. "We
must be able to note and arrest half-formed censures as they
pass over the countenance of the listeners, by hastening to dis
sipate them before self-love be engaged against us. There is
no arena in which vanity displays itself under such a variety of
forms as in conversation."*

Of all the women of our age, Madame dc Stael was the most
eminently intellectual. With genius, and judgment, and powers
uf mental application of the highest order, $he was imbued with

' L'Allemagm:.

BYRON'S OPINION OF MADAME DE STAEL. 135

poetry and enthusiasm, she was of a sanguine, impulsive nature,
wonderfully eloquent, chivalrous, patriotic, a lover of liberty and
glory, and, withal, womanly in her feelings and affections. She
delighted in society ; with her large heart, and well-stored head,
and remarkable powers of conversation, it is no wonder the cir
cles of a metropolis that was in that day the great centre of civ
ilization should have peculiar attractions for her ; Paris, with
its brilliant society, where her literary reputation had its birth,
became her world. She gloried in society, and was the chief
grace, glory, and ornament of it.

Byron, said to Lady Blessington that " Madame de Stael was
certainly the cleverest, though not the most agreeable woman
he had ever known ; she declaimed to you instead of convers
ing with you, never pausing except to take breath ; and if, during
that interval, a rejoinder was put in, it was evident that she did
not attend to it, as she resumed the thread of her discourse as.
though it had not been interrupted."

His lordship went on to say that she was in the habit of losing
herself in philosophical disquisitions, and although very eloquent
and fluent when excited in conversation, her language was some
times obscure, and her phraseology florid and redundant.

Lady Blessington 's love for London and its celebrities was of
the same all-absorbing nature as that of Madame de Stael for
Parisian society.

The exile of the illustrious baroness from the French capital
was " a second death" to her, we are told in a recent admirable
memoir.

" It appears strange that banishment from Paris should thus
have been looked upon by Madame de Stael as an evil, and
cause of suffering almost beyond her endurance. "With her
great intellectual resources, her fine heart, capable of attaching
itself to whatever was lovable or excellent, and the power she
possessed of interesting others, and of giving the tone to what
ever society she entered, one would have supposed that she, of
all people, ought not to have depended for her happiness upon
any clique or association, however brilliant. But, though she
viewed with deep interest and philosophical curiosity every form

136 MADAME DE STAEL.

of human society, she only seems to have loved that to which
she had been accustomed, and to have felt herself at home only
in the midst of the bustle and excitement among which her life
had begun. She was not yet fully alive to the beauties of na
ture. Like Charles Lamb, she preferred the ' sweet security of
streets' to the most magnificent scenery the world contained,
and thought, with Dr. Johnson, that there was no scene equal to
the high tide of human existence in the heart of a populous
city. When guests who came to visit her at Geneva were in
ecstasies with its lovely scenes, 'Give me the Rue de Bac,' she
said : ' I would rather live in Paris in a fourth story, and with a
hundred a year. I do not dissemble : a residence in Paris has
always appeared to me, under any circumstances, the most de
sirable of all others. French conversation- excels nowhere ex
cept in Paris, and conversation has been, since my infancy, my
greatest pleasure.'"

One who knew her peculiar talents and characteristics well
has observed of her in later years : " An over-stimulated youth,
acting on a temperament naturally ardent and impassioned, had
probably aggravated these tendencies to a morbid extent ; for in
the very prime of her life, and strength of her intellect, it would
have seemed to her almost as impossible to dispense with the
luxury of deep and strong emotions, as with the air which sus
tained her existence."

Madame de Stael had this advantage over all the learned and
literary women of her time — she was born and bred in the midst
of intellectual excitement, conversational exhibitions, triumphs
of imagination, and all the stirring scenes of a grand drama,
which opened with bright visions of freedom, and renewed vigor
and vitality for the human race, though it terminated in a ter
rible denouement of revolution and widely-extended phrensy.

Madame de Stacl lacked one great source of influence and
power in conversation, namely, beauty. Her features were
flexible, but strongly marked and somewhat masculine ; but
her eyes were full of animation, vivacity, and expression, and
her voice was finely modulated and harmonious, peculiarly touch
ing and pleasing to the car, while her movements wore srrace-

HOLLAND HOUSE. 137

ful and dignified. She entered on life at the beginning of a
mighty revolution, with lofty aspirations and glorious inspira
tions, animated by enthusiastic feelings of love of liberty, of hu
manity, of glory, and exalted virtue. There was no affectation
in these heroic sentiments and chivalrous imaginings : they
were born with her ; they were fostered in her ; the times in
which her lot was cast developed them most fully.

It would be vain to look for intellectual power in the literary
women of other lands, of our time, that could have produced
"Thoughts on the French Revolution," " Ten Years of Exile,"
" Sophia, or Secret Sentiments," " On the Influence of Passions
in Individuals and National Happiness," " Literature, consider
ed in its connection with Social Institutions," "Delphine," " Co-
rinne," " Germany," &c., &c., &c.

The labor of her great works on the French Revolution, after
her return to her beloved Paris, at the period of the restoration
of Louis the Eighteenth, contributed, it is supposed, to the
breaking down of her health, after a short but memorable ca
reer of wonderful literary toil and application of the mental fac
ulties. She died in 1817, at the age of fifty-one years.

Of Holland House society, Mr. Macauley, in an article in the
" Edinburgh Review," has commemorated the brilliancies ; and
Lord John Russell has likewise recorded its attractions in terms
worthy of a man of letters and a lover of the amenities of liter
ature. In his preface to the six volumes of" Moore's Memoirs,"
he seems to revel in the short snatches of literary occupation
which he has indulged in, at the expense of politics and affairs
of state, when he describes the conversational powers of Lord
Holland, and the display of them in those circles which his lord
ship and his friend Moore were in the habit of frequenting. He
characterizes the charms of Lord Holland's conversation as com
bining a variety of excellencies of disposition, as well as of men
tal endowments, generous sentiments and principles, kindliness
of nature, warmth of feeling, remarkable cheerfulness of dispo
sition, toleration for all opinions, a keen sense of the ridiculous,
good memory, an admirable talent for mimicry, a refined taste,
an absence of all formality, a genial warmth and friendliness of

138 HOLLAND HOUSE.

intercourse in society. " He won," says Lord John, "without
seeming to court, he instructed without seeming to teach, and
he amused without laboring to be witty. But of the charm
which belonged to Lord Holland's conversation future times can
form no adequate conception :

" ' The pliant muscles of the varying face,

The mien that gave each sentence strength and grace,
The tuneful voice, the eye that spoke the mind,
Are gone, nor leave a single trace behind.' •'

I find among the papers of Count D'Orsay a few slight but
graphic sketches of Lord Holland and some of his contempora
ries worthy of the writer, and possibly these may be all that
now remain of those delineations of London celebrities by the
count which Byron refers to in his letters.

"It is impossible," says the count, "to know Lord Holland
without feeling for him a strong sentiment of affection ; he has
so much goodness of heart, that one forgets often the superior
qualities of mind which distinguish him ; and it is difficult to
conceive that a man so simple, so natural, and so good, should
be one of the most distinguished senators of our days."

Holland House was the well-known place of reunion of the
most eminent men of the time for nearly a century ; the scene
of innumerable wit combats, and keen encounters of intelligence
and talent.

The late Lord Holland's reputation for classical attainments
and high intelligence, fine tastes and cultivated mind, his en
couragement of art and literature, conversational talents, and
elegant hospitality, are not better known than his amiability of
disposition, kindliness of heart, and genial, noble, loving nature,
prompting him ever to generous conduct, and liberal, and some
times even heroic acts of benevolence.

One evidently well acquainted with Lady Holland thus speaks
of the brilliant circles over which she so long presided, and of
the qualities of heart and mind which enabled her to give to the
reunions of men of letters, wit, art, and science, the attractions
which characterized them.

* Moore's Memoirs, vol. v.

HOLLAND HOUSE. 139

" Beyond any other hostess we ever knew, and very far be
yond any host, she possessed the tact of perceiving and the pow
er of evoking the various capacities which lurked in every part
of the brilliant circles she drew around her. To enkindle the
enthusiasm of an artist 011 the theme over which he had achieved
the most facile mastery ; to set loose the heart of the rustic poet,
and imbue his speech with the freedom of his native hills ; to
draw from the adventurous traveler a breathing picture of his
most imminent danger, or to embolden the bashful soldier to
disclose his own share in the perils and glories of some famous
battle-field ; to encourage the generous praise of friendship
when the speaker and the subject reflected interest on each
other, or win the secret history of some eilort which had aston
ished the world, or shed new lights on science ; to conduct those
brilliant developments to the height of satisfaction, and then to
shift the scene by the magic of a word, were among her daily
successes. And if this extraordinary power over the elements
of social enjoyments was sometimes wielded without the entire
concealment of its despotism — if a decisive check sometimes re
buked a speaker who might intercept the variegated beauty of
Jeffrey's indulgent criticism, or the jest announced and self-re
warded in Sidney Smith's delighted and delighting chuckle, the
authority was too clearly exerted for the evening's prosperity,
and too manifestly impelled by an urgent consciousness of the
value of those golden hours which were fleeting within its con
fines, to sadden the enforced silence with more than a moment
ary regret. If ever her prohibition, clear, abrupt, and decisive,
indicated more than a preferable regard for livelier discourse, it
was when a depreciatory tone was adopted toward genius, or
goodness, or honest endeavor, or when some friend, personal or
intellectual, was mentioned in slighting phrase.

" Habituated to a generous partisanship by strong sympathy
with a great political cause, she carried the fidelity of her devo
tion to that cause into her social relations, and was ever the tru
est and fastest of friends. The tendency, often more idle than
malicious, to soften down the intellectual claims of the absent,
which so insidiously besets literary conversation, and teaches a

140 HOLLAND HOUSE.

superficial insincerity even to substantial esteem and regard,
found no favor in her presence ; and hence the convex sations
over which she presided, perhaps beyond all that ever flashed
with a kindred splendor, were marked by that integrity of good
nature, which might admit of their exact repetition to every
living individual whose merits were discussed without the dan
ger of inflicting pain.

" Under her auspices, not only all critical, but all personal talk
was tinged with kindness ; the strong interest which she took
in the happiness of her friends shed a peculiar sunniness over
the aspects of life presented by the common topics of alliances,
and marriages, and promotions ; and not a promising engage
ment, or a wedding, or a promotion of a friend's son, or a new
intellectual triumph of any youth with whose name and history
she was familiar, but became an event on which she expected
and required congratulation as on a part of her own fortune.

" Although there was naturally a preponderance in. her soci
ety of the sentiment of popular progress, which once was cher
ished almost exclusively by the party to whom Lord Holland
was united by sacred ties, no expression of triumph in success,
no virulence in sudden disappointment, was ever permitted to
wound the most sensitive ear of her conservative guests. It
might be that some placid comparison of recent with former
time spoke a sense of peaceful victory, or that on the giddy edge
of some great party struggle, the festivities of the evening might
take a more serious cast as news arrived from the scene of con
test, and the pleasure be deepened with the peril ; but the feel
ing was always restrained by the present evidence of perma
nent solaces for the mind which no political changes could dis
turb. If to hail and welcome genius, or even talent which re
vered and imitated genius, was one of the greatest pleasures of
Lord Holland's life, to search it out and bring it within the
sphere of his noble sympathy was the delightful study of hers.
How often, during the last half century, has the steep ascent of
fame been brightened by the genial appreciation she bestowed,
and the festal light she cast on its solitude ! How often has the
assurance of success received its crowning delight amid the ge-

CHARLEVILLE HOUSE. 141

nial luxury of her circle, where renown itself has been realized
in all its sweetness !"*

CHARLEVILLE HOUSE, CAVENDISH SQUARE.

The late Dowager Lady Charleville was a remarkable person,
eminently gifted, and highly accomplished. The author had
the honor of knowing her ladyship intimately about twenty
years ago. Few women possessed sounder judgment, or were
more capable of forming just opinions on most subjects.

Dublin and its society at the time of the Union, and for some
years before, as well as after that measure, was a frequent sub
ject of conversation with her. All the Irish celebrities of those
times were intimately known by her ; Clare and Castlereagh,
young Wesley and Lord Edward Fitzgerald, Lord Moira, and
the Beresfords, cum multis aliis, of most dissimilar political ele
ments. Throughout her whole career, it seemed to be a settled
plan of hers to bring persons of worth, of opposite opinions, to
gether, and to endeavor to get them to think justly and favora
bly of one another, as if she considered one of the chief causes
of half the estrangements and animosities that exist was the
groundless misapprehensions of unacquainted people of the same
class, pursuits in life, or position in society.

The Countess Dowager of Cork, at the same period that Ladies
Blessington, Holland, and Charleville collected round them their
several celebrities of fashion and literary eminence, was the
centre of a brilliant circle of London celebrities. From 1820
to 1840 was frequently to be seen at the London theatres this
genuine representative, in all but one respect, of the celebrated
Ninon, de 1'Enclos.

The Right Hon. Mary, Countess Dowager of Cork and Derry,
resided for a great many years in New Burlington Street. Her
ladyship's soirees were not on so extensive a scale as those of
Lady Blessington and Lady Holland, but still they were crowd
ed with fashionable and distinguished people. Lady Cork, when
Miss Monckton, was one of Dr. Johnson's favorites. " Her vivac
ity," we arc told, " exhilarated the sage ;" and they used to talk

* Remarks on the character of Lady Holland, in the if Morning Chronicle."

142 SEAMORE PLACE.

together with all imaginable ease. Frequent mention of her is
made by Boswell. She was born in 1746 ; her father was John
Monckton, first Viscount Galway. In 1784 she married the
Earl of Cork. For a large portion of her life she occupied a
conspicuous place in London society. Her residence in New
Burlington Street was a rendezvous of wits, scholars, sages, and
politicians, and bas blcux of celebrity. "Her social reputation
dates from her attempts, the first of the kind (in England), to in
troduce into the routine and formation of our high life some
thing of the wit and energy which characterized the society of
Paris in the last century- While still young, she made the house
of her mother, Lady Galway, the point of rendezvous where
talent and genius might mingle with rank and fashion, and
the advantages of intellectual endowments be mutually inter
changed."

The endeavors of Miss Monckton to give a higher tone to the
society in which she found herself in the latter part of the last
century had the beneficial effect of thinning the crowds round
the faro-tables, then the nightly excitement of both sexes. Her
Sunday parties were the first that were attempted without this
accompaniment. Her ladyship, to the last enjoying society ;
" ready for death, but not wishing to see him coming," died at
the age of ninety-four, in her house in Burlington Street, the
20th of May, 1840.

SEAMORE PLACE.

Lady Blessington, in one of her novels, " The Victims of So
ciety," wherein abundance of sarcasm was bestowed on the lion
izing tendencies of English fashionable society, refers to " the
modern Mecamases of May-fair" (in which locality her ladyship
resided when this novel was written by her), " who patronise
poets and philosophers, from association with whom they expect

to derive distinction A few of the houses, with the most

pretensions to literary taste, have their tame poets and pctds
litterateurs, who run about as docile and more parasitical than
lap-dogs ; and, like them, are equally well fed, ay, and certainly
equally spoiled. The dull pleasantries, thrice-told anecdotes,

SEAMORE PLACE.

143

and resumes of the scandal of each week, served up rechauffes
by these pigmies of literature, are received most graciously by
their patrons, who agree in opinion with the French writer,
<; ' Nul iv aura de 1'esprit,
Hors nous et nos amis.' "

Not even, we may add, in Seamore Place or Kensington Gore,
where the experience was chiefly gained which enabled poor
Lady Blessington to delineate " The Victims of Society."

Lady Blessington returned to London from the Continent in
November, 1830. In the latter part of 1831 she took up her
abode in Seamore Place, May Fair. The mansion in St. James's
Square, which had been bequeathed to her by Lord Blessington,
was far too expensive an establishment to be kept up by her 011
an income of two thousand a year. Having disposed of her in
terest in it, she rented the house in Seamore Place from Lord
Mountford, and fitted it up in a style of the greatest magnifi
cence and luxury.* Here, in the month of March, 1832, 1 found
her ladyship established. The Count and Countess D'Orsay
were then residing with her. The salons of Lady Blessington
were opened nightly to men of genius and learning, and persons
of celebrity of all climes, to travelers of every European city of
distinction. Her abode became a centre of attraction for the
beau monde of the intellectual classes, a place of reunion for re
markable persons of talent or eminence of some sort or another,
and certainly the most agreeable resort of men of literature, art,
science, of strangers of distinction, travelers, and public charac
ters of various pursuits, the most agreeable that ever existed in
this country.

Perhaps the agremens of the Seamore Place society surpassed
those of the Gore House soirees. Lady Blessington, when resid-

* The house in St. James's Square, which had been bequeathed to Lady Bless
ington by her husband, it was expected, would have added .£500 a year to her in
come for the few years of the unexpired term of the lease. The head rent, how
ever, was very high, £840 a year. It. had been let to the Windham club, furnish
ed, for £1350 a year ; but the mode in which the property in the furniture had
been left by Lord Blessington, and the conditions imposed by the will with re
spect to its ultimate transfer to Ireland, and the fault, moreover, found with the
bad state of it, had led to such difficulties, that eventually she relinquished her
rijht and interest in the house to the executors, Messrs, Norrnan and Worthinrton.

144 iSEAMORE PLACE.

ing in the former street, had not then long commenced the ca
reer of authorship as a pursuit and a speculation.

In the twelfth letter of "the Pencilings," dated 1834, Mr.
^Willis gives an account of his first visit to Lady Blessington in
London, then residing in Seamore Place, certainly more graphic
than any other description of her reunions that has been given :

" A friend in Italy had kindly given rue a letter to Lady Bless
ington, and with a strong curiosity to see this celebrated author
ess, I called on the second day after my arrival in London. It
was ' deep i' the afternoon,' but I had not yet learned the full
meaning of town hours. ' Her ladyship had riot come down to
breakfast.' I gave the letter and my address to the powdered
footman, and had scarce reached home, when a note arrived in
viting me to call the same evening at ten.

" In a long library, lined alternately with splendidly-bound
books and mirrors, and with a deep window, of the breadth of
the room, opening upon Hyde Park, I found Lady Blessington
alone. The picture, to my eye, as the door opened, was a very
lovely one — a woman of remarkable beauty, half buried in a
fauteuil of yellow satin, reading by a magnificent lamp suspend
ed from the centre of the arched ceiling ; sofas, couches, otto
mans, and busts arranged in rather a crowded sumptuousness
through the room ; enamel tables, covered with expensive and el
egant trifles in every corner, and a delicate white hand relieved
on the back of a book, to which the eye was attracted by the
blaze of its diamond rings. As the servant mentioned my name,
she rose and gave me her hand very cordially ; and a gentleman
entering immediately after, she presented me to Count D'Orsay,
the well-known Pelham of London, and certainly the most splen
did specimen of a man, and a well-dressed one, that I had ever
seen. Tea was brought in immediately, and conversation went
swimmingly on.

" Her ladyship's inquiries were principally about America, of
which, from long absence, I knew very little. She was ex
tremely curious to know the degrees of reputation the present
popular authors of England enjoy among us, particularly Bul-
wcr and D'Isracli (the author of : Vivian Grey'). f If you will

SEAMORE PLACE. 145

come to-morrow night,' she said, ' you will see Bulwer. I am
delighted that he is popular in America. He is envied and
abused — for nothing, I believe, except for the superiority of his
genius, and the brilliant literary success it commands ; and
knowing this, he chooses to assume a pride which is only the
armor of a sensitive mind afraid of a wound. He is to his
friends the most frank and noble creature in the world, and open
to boyishness with those who he thinks understand and value
him. He has a brother Henry, who is also very clever in a
different vein, and is just now publishing a book on the present
state of France.

" ' Do they like the D'Israelis in America V

" I assured her ladyship that the ' Curiosities of Literature,'
by the father, and * Vivian Grey' and ' Contarini Fleming,' by
the son, were universally known.

" * I am pleased at that, for I like them both. D'Israeli the
elder came here with his son the other night. It would have
delighted you to see the old man's pride in him, and the son's
respect and affection for his father. D'Israeli the elder lives in
the country, about twenty miles from town ; seldom comes up
to London, and leads a life of learned leisure, each day hoarding
up and dispensing forth treasures of literature. He is courtly,
yet urbane, and impresses one at once with confidence in his
goodness. In his manners, D'Israeli the younger is quite his
own character of " Vivian Grey ;" full of genius and eloquence,
with extreme good nature, and a perfect frankness of character.'

" I asked if the account I had seen in some American paper
of a literary celebration at Canandaigua, and the engraving of
her ladyship's name with some others upon a rock, was not a
quiz.

" * Oh, by no means. I was much amused by the whole af
fair. I have a great idea of taking a trip to America to see it.
Then the letter, commencing, " Most charming Countess — for
charming you must be, since you have written the ' Conversa
tions of Lord Byron'" — oh, it was quite delightful. I have
shown it to every body. By-the-way, I receive a great many
letters from America from people I never heard of, written in
.— G

146

SEAMORE PLACE.

the most extraordinary style of compliment, apparently in per
fect good faith. I hardly know what to make of them.'

" I accounted for it by the perfect seclusion in which great
numbers of cultivated people live in our country, who, having
neither intrigue, nor fashion, nor twenty other things to occupy
their minds, as in England, depend entirely upon books, and
consider an author who has given them pleasure as a friend.
' America,' 1 said, ' has probably more literary enthusiasts than
any country in the world ; and there are thousands of romantic
minds in the interior of New England who know perfectly
every writer on this side of the water, and hold them all in
affectionate veneration, scarcely conceivable by a sophisticated
European. If it were not for such readers, literature would be
the most thankless of vocations ; I, for one, would never write
another line.'

" 'And do you think these are the people'which write to me?
If I could think so, I should be exceedingly happy. A great
proportion of the people of England are refined down to such
heartlessness ; criticism, private and public, is so much influ
enced by politics, that it is really delightful to know there is a
more generous tribunal. Indeed, 1 think many of our authors
now are beginning to write for America. We think already a
great deal of your praise or censure.'

" I asked if her ladyship had known many Americans.

'; ' Not in London, but a great many abroad. I was with
Lord Blcssington in his yacht at Naples when the American fleet
was lying there ten or eleven years ago, and we were constantly
on board your ships. I knew Commodore Creighton and Cap
tain Deacon extremely well, and liked them particularly. They
were with us frequently of an evening on board the yacht or
the frigate, and I remember very well the bands playing always
" God save the King" as we went up the side. Count D'Orsay
here, who spoke very little English at the time, had a great pas
sion for " Yankee Doodle," and it was always played at his re
quest.'

" The count, who still speaks the language with a very slight
accent, but with a choice of words that shows him to be a man

SEAMORE PLACE. 147

of uncommon tact and elegance of mind, inquired after several
of the officers, whom I have not the pleasure of knowing. He
seems to remember his visits to the frigate with great pleasure.
The conversation, after running upon a variety of topics, turned
very naturally upon Byron. I had frequently seen the Countess
Ghiiccioli on the Continent, and I asked Lady Blessington if she
knew her.

" ' Yes, very well. We were at Genoa when they were living
there, but we never saw her. It was at Rome, in the year 1828,
that I first knew her, having formed her acquaintance at Count
Furichal's, the Portuguese embassador.'

" It would be impossible, of course, to make a full and fail-
record of a conversation of some hours. I have only noted one
or two topics which I thought most likely to interest an Amer
ican reader. During all this long visit, however, my eyes were
very busy in finishing for memory a portrait of the celebrated
and beautiful woman before me.

" The portrait of Lady Blessington in the ' Book of Beauty' is
not unlike her, but it is still an unfavorable likeness. A picture
by Sir Thomas Lawrence hung opposite me, taken, perhaps, at
the age of eighteen, which is more like her, and as captivating
a representation of a just matured woman, full of loveliness and
love, the kind of creature with whose divine sweetness the
gazer's heart aches, as ever was drawn in the painter's most
inspired hour. The original is no longer dans sa premiere jeu-
nesse. Still she looks something on the sunny side of thirty.
Her person is full, but preserves all the fineness of an admira
ble shape ; her foot is not pressed in a satin slipper, for which
a Cinderella might long be sought in vain ; and her complexion
(an unusually fair skin, with very dark hair and eyebrows) is
of even a girlish delicacy and freshness. Her dress, of blue
satin (if I am describing her like a milliner, it is because I have
here and there a reader in my eye who will be amused by it),
was cut low, and folded across her bosom, in. a way to show to
advantage the round and sculpture-like curve and whiteness of
a pair of exquisite shoulders ; while her hair, dressed close to
her head, and parted simply on her forehead with a xich feronicr

148

SEAMORE PLACE.

of turquoise, enveloped in clear outline a head with which it
would be difficult to find a fault. Her features are regular, and
her mouth, the most expressive of them, has a ripe fullness and
freedom of play peculiar to the Irish physiognomy, and express
ive of the most unsuspicious good-hurnor. Add to all this a
voice merry and sad hy turns, but always musical, and manners
of the most unpretending elegance, yet even more remarkable
for their winning kindness, and you have the prominent traits
of one of the most lovely and fascinating women I have ever
seen. Remembering her talents and her rank, and the unenvy-
ing admiration she receives from the world of fashion and ge
nius, it would be difficult to reconcile her lot to the ' doctrine
of compensation.' *

" In the evening I kept my appointment with Lady Blessing-
ton. She had deserted her exquisite library for the drawing-
room, and sat, in full dress, with six or seven gentlemen about
her. I was presented immediately to all ; and when the con
versation was resumed, I took the opportunity to remark the dis
tinguished coterie with which she was surrounded.

" Nearest me sat Smith, the author of * Rejected Addresses' —
a hale, handsome man, apparently fifty, with white hair, and a
very nobly-formed head and physiognomy. His eye alone —
small, and with lids contracted into an habitual look of drollery,
betrayed the bent of his genius. He held a cripple's crutch in
his hand, and, though otherwise rather particularly well-dressed,
wore a pair of large India-rubber shoes — the penalty he was pay
ing, doubtless, for the many good dinners he had eaten. He
played rather an aside in the conversation, whipping in with a
quiz or witticism whenever he could get an opportunity, but
more a listener than a talker.

" On the opposite side of Lady Blessington stood Henry Bul-
wer, the brother of the novelist, very earnestly engaged in a
discussion of some speech of O'ConnelPs. He is said by many
to be as talented as his brother, and has lately published a book
on the present state of France. He is a small man; very slight
and gentlemanlike ; a little pitted with the small-pox, and of

* Pencilings by the Way, p. 355, 350,

SEAMORE PLACE.

149

very winning and persuasive manners. I liked him at the first
glance.

" A German prince, with a star on his breast, trying with all
his might — but, from his embarrassed look, quite unsuccessful
ly — to comprehend the drift of the argument ; the Duke de Rich
elieu ; a famous traveler just returned from Constantinople ; and
the splendid person of Count D'Orsay, in a careless attitude upon
the ottoman, completed the cordon.

" I fell into conversation after a while with Smith, who, sup
posing I might not have heard the names of the others in the
hurry of an introduction, kindly took the trouble to play the dic
tionary, and added a graphic character of each as he named
him. Among other things, he talked a great deal of America,
and asked me if I knew our distinguished countryman, Wash
ington Irving. I had never been so fortunate as to meet him.
'You have lost a great deal,' he said, 'for never was so delight
ful a fellow. I was once taken down with him into the country by
a merchant to dinner. Our friend stopped his carriage at the gate
of his park, and asked us if we would walk through his grounds
to the house. Irving refused, and held me down by the coat,
so that we drove on to the house together, leaving our host to
follow on foot. ' I make it a principle,' said Irving, ' never to
walk with a man through his own grounds. I have no idea of
praising a thing whether I like it or not. You and I will do
them to-morrow morning by ourselves.' The rest of the com
pany had turned their attention to Smith as he began his story,
and there was a universal inquiry after Mr. Irving. Indeed,
the first question on the lips of every one to whom I am intro
duced as an American is of him and Cooper. The latter seems
to me to be admired as much here as abroad, in spite of a com
mon impression that he dislikes the nation. No man's works
could have higher praise in the general conversation that fol
lowed, though several instances were mentioned of his having
shown an unconquerable aversion to the English when in En
gland. Lady Blessington mentioned Mr. Bryant, and I was
pleased at the immediate tribute paid to his delightful poetry
by the talented circle around her.

150 SEAMORE PLACE.

" Toward twelve o'clock Mr. Lytton Bulwer was announced,
and enter the author of ' Pelham.' I had made up my mind
how he should look, and, between prints and descriptions, thought
I could scarcely be mistaken in my idea of his person. No two
thino-s could be more unlike, however, than the ideal of Mr.
Buhver in my mind and the real Mr. Bulwer who followed the
announcement. I liked his manners extremely. He ran up to
Lady Blessington with the joyous heartiness of a boy let out of
school ; and the ' how d'ye, Bulwer?' went round, as he shook
hands with every body, in the style of welcome usually given to
' the best fellow in the world.' As I had brought a letter of in
troduction to him from a friend in Italy, Lady Blessington intro
duced me particularly, and we had a long conversation about
Naples and its pleasant society.

" Bulwer's head is phrenologically a fine one. His forehead
retreats very much, but is very broad and well masked, and the
whole air is that of decided mental superiority. His nose is
aquiline. His complexion is fair, his hair profuse, curly, and of
a light auburn. A more good-natured, habitually-smiling ex
pression could hardly be imagined. Perhaps my impression is
an imperfect one, as he was in the highest spirits, and was not
serious the whole evening for a minute — but it is strictly and
faithfully my impression.

" I can imagine no style of conversation calculated to be more
agreeable than Bulwer's. Gay, quick, various, half-satirical, and
always fresh and different from every body else, he seemed to
talk because he could not help it, and infected every body with
his spirits. I can not give even the substance of it in a letter,
for it was in a great measure local or personal.

" Bulwer's voice, like his brother's, is exceedingly lover-like
and sweet. His playful tones are quite delicious, arid his clear
laugh is the soul of sincere and careless merriment.

" It is quite impossible to convey in a letter, scrawled literally
between the end of a late visit and a tempting pillow, the e\a-
nescent and pure spirit of a conversation of wits. I must con
fine myself, of course, in such sketches, to the mere sentiment
of things that concern general literature and ourselves.

SEAMORE PLACE. 151

" ' The Rejected Addresses' got upon his crutches about three
o'clock in the morning, and I made my exit with the rest, thank
ing Heaven that, though in a strange country, my mother tongue
was the language of its men of genius.

'; Letter June 14, 1834. 1 was at Lady Blessington's at eight.
Moore had not arrived, but the other persons of the party — a
Russian count, who spoke all the languages of Europe as well
as his own ; a Roman banker, whose dynasty is more powerful
than the Pope's ; a clever English nobleman, and the ; observed
of all observers,' Count D'Orsay, stood in the window upon the
park, killing, as they might, the melancholy twilight half hour
preceding dinner.

" Dinner was announced, the Russian handed down ' miladi,'
and I found myself seated opposite Moore, with a blaze of light
on his Bacchus head, and the mirrors with which the superb
octagonal room is paneled reflecting every motion .... The soup
vanished in the busy silence that beseems it, and as the courses
commenced their procession, Lady Blessington led the conversa
tion with the brilliancy and ease for which she is remarkable
over all the women I ever met ....

"O'Connell was mentioned.

" ' He is a powerful creature,' said Moore ; ' but his eloquence
has done great harm both to England and Ireland. There is
nothing so powerful as oratory. The faculty of " thinking on his
legs" is a tremendous engine in the hands of any man. There
is an undue admiration for this faculty, and a sway permitted
to it which was always more dangerous to a country than any

thing else. Lord A is a wonderful instance of what a man

may do without talking. There is a general confidence in him —
a universal belief in his honesty, which serves him instead.
Peel is a fine speaker, but, admirable as he had been as an Op
positionist, he failed when he came to lead the House. O'Con-
nell would be irresistible, were it not for the two blots on his
character — the contributions in Ireland for his support, and his
refusal to give satisfaction to the man he is still willing to at
tack. They may say what they will of dueling : it is the great
preserver of the decencies of society. The old school, which

152 SEAMORE PLACE.

made a man responsible for his words, was the better. I must
confess I think so. Then, in O'ConnelPs case, he had not made
his vow against dueling when Peel challenged him. He ac
cepted the challenge, and Peel went to Dover on his way to
France, where they were to meet; and O'Connell pleaded his
wife's illness, and delayed till the law interfered.* Some other
Irish patriot, about the same time, refused a challenge on ac
count of the illness of his daughter, arid one of the Dublin wits
made a good epigram on the two :

" Some men, with a horror of slaughter,
Improve on the Scripture command,
And ' honor their' wife and their daughter,
' That their days may be long in the land.' "

The great period of Ireland's glory,' continued Moore, ' was be
tween '82 and '98, and it was a time when a man almost lived
with a pistol in his hand. Crrattan's dying advice to his son
was, " Be always ready with the pistol !'? He himself never hes
itated a moment . . . .'

" Talking of Grattan, is it not wonderful, with all the agitation
in Ireland, we have had no such man since his time ? You can
scarcely reckon Shiel of the calibre of her spirits of old, and
O'Connell, with all his faults, stands alone in his glory.

"The conversation I have given is a mere skeleton, of course . . .

" This discussion may be supposed to have occupied the hour
after Lady Blessington retired from the table ; for with her van
ished Moore's excitement, and every body else seemed to feel
that light had gone out of the room. Her excessive beauty is
less an inspiration than the wondrous talent with which she
draws from every person around her his peculiar excellence.
Talking better than any body else, and narrating, particularly,
with a graphic power that I never saw excelled, this distin
guished woman seems striving only to make others unfold them
selves ; and never had diffidence a more apprehensive and cn-

* There are many statements made and opinions expressed by Mr. Willis in
the extracts above given, with regard to which, silence, it is hoped, will not be
taken for acquiescence in their justice. — R. It, M.

SEAMORE PLACE. 153

couraging listener. But this is a subject with which I should
never be done.

"We went up to coffee, and Moore brightened again over his
chasse-cafe, and went glittering on with criticisms on Grisi, the
delicious songstress now ravishing the world, whom he placed
above all but Pasta ; and whom he thought, with the exception
that her legs were too short, an incomparable creature. This
introduced music very naturally, and with a great deal of dif
ficulty he was taken to the piano. My letter is getting long,
and I have no time to describe his singing. It is well known,
however, that its effect is only equaled by the beauty of his
own words ; and, for one, I could have taken him into my heart
with my delight. He makes no attempt at music. It is a kind
of admirable recitative, in which every shade of thought is syl
labled and dwelt upon, and the sentiment of the song goes
through your blood, warming you to the very eyelids, and start
ing your tears, if you have a soul or sense in you. I have heard
of women's fainting at a song of Moore's ; and if the burden of
it answered by chance to a secret in the bosom of the listener,
I should think, from its comparative effect upon so old a stager
as myself, that the heart would break with it.

"We all sat around the piano, and after two or three songs
of Lady Blessington's choice, he rambled over the keys a while,
and sang 'When first I met thee' with a pathos that beggars
description. When the last word had faltered out, he rose and
took Lady Blessington's hand, said good-night, and was gone
before a word was uttered."*

In a former edition of " the Pencilings," there are some refer
ences to one of the literary men of distinction he met on the oc
casion above referred to which do not exist in the later edition.
In these references there are some remarks, intended to be smart
sayings, exceedingly superficial and severe, as well as unjust ;
but there are other observations which are no less true than
happily expressed, especially with regard to the descriptive and
conversational powers of one of the most highly gifted of all the
celebrities of Gore House society.

* Pencilings by the Way, p. 360 to 367.

H2

J54 SEAMORE PLACE.

" D'Israeli had arrived before me at Lady Blessington's, and
sat in the deep window, looking out upon Hyde Park, with the
last rays of daylight reflected from the gorgeous gold flowers
of a splendidly embroidered waistcoat. Patent leather pumps,
a white stick, with a black cord and tassel; and a quantity of
chains about his neck and pockets, served to make him, even in
the dim light, rather a conspicuous object. D'Israeli has one
of the most remarkable faces 1 ever saw. He is lividly pale,
and, but for the energy of his action and the strength of his
lungs, would seem a victim to consumption. His eye is black
as Erebus, and has the most mocking and lying-in-wait sort of
expression conceivable ....

' His hair is as extraordinary as his taste in waistcoats. A
thick, heavy mass of jet black ringlets falls over his left cheek
almost to his collarless stock, while on the right it is parted
and put away with the smooth carefulness of a girl's, and shines
most unctuously

" ' With thy incomparable oil, Macassar.'

D'Israeli was the only one at table who knew Beckford, and the
style in which he gave a sketch of his habits and manners was
worthy of himself. I might as well attempt to gather up the
foam of the sea as to convey an idea of the extraordinary lan
guage in which he clothed his description. There were at least
five words in every sentence that must have been very much as
tonished at the use they were put to, and yet no others appar
ently could so well have conveyed his idea. He talked like a
race-horse approaching the winning post, every muscle in ac
tion, and the utmost energy of expression flung out in every
burst. Victor Hugo and his extraordinary novels came next
under discussion ; and D'Israeli, who was fired with his own
eloquence, started off, apropos dcs bottcs, with a long story of
impalement he had seen in Upper Egypt. It was as good, and,
perhaps, as authentic as the description of the chow-chow-tow
in 'Vivian Grey.' The circumstantiality of the account was
equally horrible and amusing. Then followed the sufferer's
history, with a score of murders and barbarities, heaped to-

SEAMORE PLACE. 155

gether, like Martin's feast of Belshazzar, with a mixture of hor
ror and splendor that was unparalleled in my experience of im
provisation. No mystic priest of the Corybantes could have
worked himself up into a finer phrensy of language."

My recollection of the scene to which I think Mr. Willis al
ludes is of a very different kind, so far as relates to the impres
sion made by the truly extraordinary powers of description of
Mr. D'Israeli.

Haydon, in his diary, 27th of February, 1835, writes, "Went
to Lady Blessington's in the evening ; every body goes to Lady
Blessington. She has the first news of every thing, and every
body seems delighted to tell her. No woman will be more
missed. She is the centre of more talent and gayety than any
other woman of fashion in London."*

In the summer of 1833, Lady Blessington met with a severe
loss. Her house in Seamore Place was broken into at night by
thieves, and plate and jewelry to the value of about jGlOOO
were carried off, and never afterward recovered. This was the
first disaster in the way of loss of property that occurred to her.
A few years later, she was destined to see every thing swept
away she was accustomed to set a store on, every object of lux
ury that had become a necessity to the splendid misery of her
mode of life — costly furniture, magnificent mirrors, adornments
of salons, valuable pictures, portraits by the first masters, all the
literary baubles of the boudoir and precious ornaments of the
person, rarities from every land, books elegantly bound, and per
haps more prized than all her other treasures.

Lady Blessington removed from Seamore Place to the more
spacious and elegant mansion of Gore House, Kensington Gore,
the former abode of William Wilberforce, in the early part of
1836. And here her ladyship remained till the 14th of April,
1849.

GORE HOUSE.

Any person acquainted with Lady Blessington when residing
at the villa Belvidere at Naples, the Palazzo Negrone at Rome,

* Memoirs of B. R. Haydon, vol. iii., p. 12.

156 GORE HOUSE.

her delightful residence at Seamore Place in London, and her
latest English place of abode in Gore House, must have ob
served the remarkable changes that had come over her mind at
the different epochs of her career in intellectual society and in
fashionable life from 1823 to 1849.

In Naples, the charm of Lady Blessington's conversation and
society was indescribably effective. The genial air, the beau
tiful scenery of the place, and all the "influences of the sweet
South," seemed to have delighted, soothed, and spiritualized her
feelings. A strong tendency to fastidiousness of taste, to weari
ness of mind in the enjoyment of any long-continued entertain
ment or amusement, to sudden impulses of hastiness of temper
(as distinguished from habitual ill-humor), had been subdued
and softened by those changes of scenery and " skiey influ
ences ;" and, above all, there was observable in her animal spir
its a flow of hilarity, a natural vivacity, such as those who knew
her in early life were well aware had belonged to her childhood,
and which, having been restrained and checked to some extent,
had resumed, in the south of Italy, its original character of out-
bursting gaite du ca>ur. The ringing laugh of joyous girlhood,
which Mrs. Jordan used to act to such perfection, was a reality
with Lady Blessington in those merry moods of hers in Naples,
which were then, indeed, neither " few nor far between."

In society Lady Blessington was then supremely attractive ;
she was natural and sprightly, and spirituellc in proportion, to
her naturalness, and utter absence of all appearance of an effort
to be effective in conversation.

At the distance of a period of three years from the time of
my departure from Naples, when I next met Lady Blessington
at Rome, that vivacity to which I have referred seemed to me
to have been considerably impaired. She had become more of
a learned lady, a queen regnant in literary circles, expected to
speak with authority on subjects of art and literature, and less
of the agreeable woman, eminently graceful, and full of gayety,
whom I had parted with in Naples in 1824. But she was at
all times attractive and triumphant in her efforts to reign in the
society she moved in ; and she was, moreover, at all times kind
ly dippoppcl and fnithfn] in her friendship*.

GORE HOUSE. 157

After an interval of nearly five years, I renewed my acquaint
ance with Lady Blessington in Seamore Place. It was evident
that another great " change had come over the spirit of her
dream" of life since I had last seen her. Cares, and troubles,
and trials of various kinds had befallen her, and left, if not vis
ible external traces, at least perceptible internal evidence of
their effects.

After a lapse of two or three years, my acquaintance with
Lady Blessington was renewed at Gore House. The new estab
lishment was on a scale of magnificence exceeding even that of
Seamore Place.

The brilliant society by which she was surrounded did not
seem to have contributed much to her felicity. There was no
happiness in the circles of Gore House comparable to that of
the Palazzo Belvidere in Naples. There was manifestly a great
intellectual effort made to keep up the charm of that society,
and no less manifest was it that a great pecuniary effort was
making to meet the large expenditure of the establishment that
was essential for it. That society was felt by her to be a ne
cessity in England. It had been a luxury in Italy, and had been
enjoyed there without anxiety for cost, or any experience of the
wear and tear of life that is connected with arduous exertions
to maintain a position in London haul ton society, acquired with
difficulty, and often supported under continually increasing em
barrassments.

But, notwithstanding the symptoms of care and anxiety that
were noticeable in Lady Blessington's appearance and conver
sation at that period of her Gore House celebrity, her powers
of attraction and of pleasing had lost none of their influences.
There were a higher class of men of great intellect at her soirees
than were formerly wont to congregate about her. Lady Bless
ington no longer spoke of books and bookish men with diffi
dence, or any marked deference for the opinions of other per
sons : she laid down the law of her own sentiments in conver
sation rather dogmatically ; she aimed more at saying smart
things than heretofore, and seemed more desirous of congrega
ting celebrities of distinction in her salons than of gathering

158 GORE HOUSE.

round her people solely for the agrcmcns of their society, or any
peculiarities in their characters or acquirements.

There was more of gravity and formality in her conversaziones
than there had been wont to be, and the conversation generally
was no longer of that gay, enlivening, cheerful character, abound
ing in drollery and humor, which made the great charm of her
reunions in the villa Belvidere. and in a minor degree in Sea-
more Place.

In Gore House society, Lady Blessington had given herself a
mission, in which she labored certainly with great assiduity and
wonderful success — that of bringing together people of the same
pursuits, who were rivals in them for professional distinction,
and inclining competitors for fame in politics, art, and literature,
to tolerant, just, and charitable opinions of one another. This,
most assuredly, was a very good and noble object, and in her
efforts to attain it she was well seconded by Count D'Orsay.

The count, indeed, not only devoted his talents to this object,
but extended his aims to the accomplishment of a purpose cal
culated to do a great deal of good ; to remove the groundless
misapprehensions of unacquainted intellectual people of neigh
boring countries, the fruitful cause of national jealousies and an
tipathies ; to remove the prejudices which had raised barriers
even in the best societies between English people and foreign
ers, to level distinctions on account of difference of country, and
to unite the high intelligences of various nations in bonds of
social intercourse.

The party warfare that is waged in art, literature, and politics,
it seemed to be the main object of the mistress of Gore House,
in the high sphere in which she moved, to assuage, to put an
end to, and, when interrupted, to prevent the recurrence of. It
was astonishing with what tact this object was pursued ; and
those only who have seen much of the correspondence of Lady
Blessington can form any idea of the labor she imposed on her
self in removing unfavorable impressions, explaining away dif
ferences, inducing estranged people to make approaches to an
accommodation, to meet and to be reconciled. These labors
were not confined to people of the studio or of literary pursuits ;

GORE HOUSE. 159

grave politicians and solemn statesmen, great legal functiona
ries, and even divines, have been largely indebted to them. She
threw herself into those labors with an earnestness which seem
ed almost incredible to those who were accustomed to the re
serve and absence of all demonstrativeriess of feeling that is sup
posed to characterize the haut ton of English society.

Mackintosh, in his beautiful " Life of Sir Thomas More," en
forcing the virtue of moderation and tolerance of opinion, and
reprobating the vulgar brutality of " hating men for their opin
ions," said, " All men, in the fierce contests of contending fac
tions, should, from such an example, learn the wisdom to fear,
lest in their most hated antagonist they may strike down a Sir
Thomas More ; for assuredly virtue is not so narrowed as to be
confined to any party, and we have in the case of More a signal
example, that the nearest approach to perfect excellence does
not exempt men from mistakes which we may justly deem mis
chievous. It is a pregnant proof that we should beware of hat
ing men for their opinions, or of adopting their doctrines because
we love and venerate their virtues."

But the high purposes to which I have referred as actuating
Lady Blessington and the Count D'Orsay, namely, of bringing
together eminent and estimable people of similar pursuits, who
had been estranged from one another, at variance, or on bad
terms, did not interfere occasionally with the exercise of the pe^
culiar talents and inclinations of both for drawing out absurd or
eccentric people for the amusement of their visitors.

One of the visitors who frequented Gore House about 1837
and 1838 was a very remarkable old French gentleman, then
upward of seventy years of age, whom I had known intimately
both in France and England — " Monsieur Julien le jeune de
Paris," as he styled himself.

He had figured in the great French Revolution — had been
patronised by Robespierre, and employed by him in Paris arid
in the south of France in the Reign of Terror. It was generally
asserted and believed that he had voted for the death of Louis
the Sixteenth. That, however, was not the fact. It was Mon
sieur Julien 1'aine who gave his voice for the execution of his

IQQ GORE HOUSE.

sovereign. I believe, moreover, that Monsieur Julien le jeune,
though employed under Robespierre, and at one time even act
ing as his secretary, was not a man of blood de son grc, though
a very ardent Republican at the period of the regime of terror.

If my poor friend, Monsieur Julien le jeune, was for some time
a minister of that system, he certainly repented of it, and made
all the atonement, as he thought, that could be made by him, by
his connection with a number of philanthropical societies, and
the advocacy of the abolition of the punishment of death, the
slave-trade, and slavery, and also by the composition of various
works of a half moral, part political and polemical kind, and a
considerable quantity of lachrymose poetry, chiefly devoted to
the illustration of the wrongs and persecutions he had suffered
for his country and his opinions. His pieces on this subject,
which were extremely lengthy and doleful, he called " Mes Cha
grins Politiqucs"

Julien had commenced '; patriotic declamation" at a very
early period of his career, on the great stage of the Revolution
of 1789. Touchard la Fosse, in his " Souvenirs d'un demi siecle,"
makes mention of him at Bordeaux, at the time that Tallien, one
of the leading Terrorists, was there on his mission of extermina
tion, seeking out the last remains of the fugitive Girondists.
The future Madame Tallien, an enchantress of the Corinne
school, daughter of the Spanish banker Monsieur Cabarrus, then
bearing the name of Madame Fontenay, was also at Bordeaux,
at that time " in the dawn of her celebrity."

" It was one day announced," says Touchard la Fosse, " that
a beautiful citizeness had composed a wonderfully patriotic ora
tion, which would be delivered at the club by a young patriot
named Julien (who subsequently, during the Empire, held sev
eral important posts in the military administration, and who,
since the Restoration better known as Julien de Paris, was, in
conjunction with the estimable Amaury Duval, the founder of
the * Revue Encyclopedique').

" The following decade was the time fixed for the delivery of
his discourse. The club was full. All eyes were bent upon a
young woman dressed in a riding habit of dark blue kerseymere

GORE HOUSE. 161

faced and trimmed with red velvet. Upon her beautiful black
hair, cropped a la Titus, then a perfectly new fashion, was light
ly set, on one side, a scarlet cap trimmed with fur. Madame
Fontenay is said to have been most beautiful in this attire.

" The oration, admirably well read by Citizen Julien, excited
wonderful admiration. Its commonplace patriotic declamation,
lighted up by a reflection of the admiration felt for the author,
gained it the utmost praise. Unanimous applause, flattering
address of the president, honors of the sitting — in short, all the
remunerations of popular assemblies, were launched upon this
beautiful patriot."

" Le Cher Julien" thus, we find, had commenced his metier of
patriotic recitations some forty-three or four years previously to
his exhibitions in Seamore Place. The first performance was
in the presence of a very celebrated French enchantress, who
reigned in Revolutionary circles, and the latest was in the pres
ence of an Irish enchantress, who reigned over literary fashion
able society in London.

At the period of his sojourn in London his head was filled
with these " Chagrins." As regularly as he presented himself
in the evenings at the salons of Lady Blessington, he brought
with him, on each occasion, a roll of paper in his side pocket,
consisting of some sheets of foolscap filled with his " Chagrins,"
which would be seen projecting from the breast of his coat,
when, on entering the room, he would stoop to kiss the hand of
Lady Blessington, after the manner of the polished courtiers of
la Vielle Cour ; for Monsieur Julien le jeune, in his old age at
least, was a perfect specimen of French courtesy, and preserved
very little of the burly bearing, or the sturdy manners or opin
ions of a Republican.

Poor Julien le jeune, like D'Alembert, had the gift of shed
ding tears at pleasure, to which don de larmes of D'Alembert, La
Ilarpe was indebted for the success of one of his dramatic pieces.

" C'est a ce don de larmes que La Harpe dut le succes de sa
Melanie. L 'etiquette voulait qu'on cut pleure a ce drame.
D'Alembert ne manquait jamais d'accompagner La Harpe. II
prenait un air serieux et compose, qui fixait d'abord 1'attention.

162 GORE HOUSE.

An premier acte il faisait remarquerles ape^ues philosophiques
de 1'ouvrage ; en suite profitant du talent qu'il avait pour la pan-
tominc, il pleurait toujours aux memes endroits, ce qui imposait
aux femmes la necessite, de s'attendrir — et comment auraient
ellcs eu les ycux sees lorsqu'un philosophe fondait en larmes ?"
Tom. ii., 10.*

It used to be a scene that it was most difficult to witness with
due restraint, and certainly not without great efforts at external
composure, when Monsieur Julien le jeime, all radiant with
smiles and overflowing with urbanity, having paid his devoirs
to her ladyship, would be approached by Count D'Orsay, and
with the eyes of the whole circle fixed on him (duly prepared
to expect amusement), the poor old man would be entreated to
favor Lady Blessington with the recital of another canto of his
political afflictions. Then Julien would protest he had read all
that was worth reading to her ladyship, but at length would
yield to the persuasions of Lady Blessington with looks and ges
tures which plainly said, " Infandmn Regina jubes renovare do-
lorem."

On the first occasion of my witnessing this scene, Julien had
just gone through the usual formula of praying to be excused,
and had made the protestation above referred to, when D'Orsay,
with a gravity that was truly admirable, and surprising how it
could be maintained, overcame all the reluctance assumed by
poor old Julien le jeune to produce the poem expressly brought
for recital, by renewed supplications, and on a novel plea for the
reading of it.

There was one present, the count observed, who had never
heard the " Chagrins,'' long and earnestly as he desired that
gratification, " Is'est pas Madden vous n'avez jamais entendu les
Chagrins Politiques de notre cher ami Monsieur Julien?"

All the reply that could be given was in a single word,
" Jamais."

" Allons mon ami," continued D'Orsay. " Ce pauvre Madden
a bien besoin d'eritendrc'vos chagrins politiques — il a les siens
aussi — (I had been recently reviewed and reviled in some pe
riodicals) — Tl a souffcrt — oui — il a des sympathies pour les

GORE HOUSE. 163

blesses, il faut le dormer cette triste plaisir — N'est ce pas Mad
den?"

Another dire effort to respond in the affirmative, " Oui, Mon
sieur le Comte."

Monsieur Julien, after playing off for some minutes all the dif
fident airs of a bashful young lady dying to sing and protesting
she can not, placed himself at the upper end of the room, near
a table with wax lights, pulled the roll of paper from his breast
pocket, and began to recite his " Chagrins Politiques" in a most
lugubrious tone, like Mademoiselle Duchesnois — avec les pleurs
dans la voix. The saloon was crowded with distinguished
guests. On the left hand of the tender-hearted poet and most
doleful reciter of his own sorrows — this quondam secretary of
Robespierre — was Lady Blessington, in her well-knowny#z^ez«7,
looking most intently, and with apparent anxious solicitude, full
in the face of the dolorous reciter. But it would not do for one
listening to the " Chagrins" to look too curiously into the eyes
of that lady, lest he might perceive any twinkling there indica
tive of internal hilarity of a communicative kind. On the other
side of Monsieur Julien, but somewhat in front of him, sat Count
D'Orsay, with a handkerchief occasionally lifted to his eyes ;
and ever and anon a plaudit or an exclamation of pain was ut
tered by him at the recital of some particular " Chagrin." At
the very instant when the accents of the reciter were becoming
most exceedingly lugubrious and ludicrous, and the difficulty of
refraining from laughter was at its height, D'Orsay was heard
to whisper in a sotto voce, as he leaned his head over the back
of the chair I sat on, " Pleurez done!"

Doctor Q,uin, who was present at this scene, one of the rich
est, certainly, I ever witnessed, during the recital contributed
largely to its effect. Whenever D'Orsay would seize on some par
ticular passage, and exclaim, " Ah que c'est beau !" then would
Q,uin's " magnifique !" " superbe !" " vraiement beau !" be in
tonated with all due solemnity, and a call for that moving passage
over again would be preferred and kindly complied with, so that
there was not one of Monsieur Julien's " Chagrins Politiques"
which was not received with the most marked attention and ap
plause.

!64 GORE HOUSE.

At the conclusion of each " Chagrin," poor Julien's eyes were
always sure to be bathed with tears, and as much so at the
latest recital of his oft-repeated griefs as at the earliest delivery
of them.

It was always in this melting mood, at the conclusion of a re
cital, he was again conducted by the hand to the fauteuil of Lady
Blessington by D'Orsay, and there bending low, as the noble
lady of the mansion graciously smiled on him, he received com
pliments and consolations, most liberally bestowed on his " Cha
grins Politiques."

Of one of those displays of D'Orsay's peculiar power in draw
ing out absurd, eccentric, or outre people of a similar kind, one
of the most distinguished writers of his time thus writes in
April, 1838:

" Count D'Orsay may well speak of an evening being a happy
one to whose happiness he contributed so largely. It would be
absurd, if one did not know it to be true, to hear Dickens tell, as
he has done ever since, of Count D'Orsay's power of drawing
out always the best elements of the society around him, and of
miraculously putting out the worst. Certainly I never saw it
so rnarvelously exhibited as on the night in question. I shall
think of him hereafter unceasingly, with the two guests that sat
on either side of him that night. But it has been impossible
for me to think of him at any time since I have known him but
with the utmost admiration, affection, and respect, which genius
and kindness can suggest to every one."

The last time I met Monsieur Julien was at a breakfast given
by Colonel Leicester Stanhope, on which occasion many remark
able persons were assembled. Julien, at that period, had aban
doned his " Chagrins Politiques," and adopted a new plan of
attracting attention. He exhibited a small dial, on the circum
ference of which, in opposite directions, moral and evil tenden
cies were marked, and to these a movable index pointed, show
ing the virtue to be cultivated when any particular defect in
character was referred to. This instrument Monsieur Julien
called his " Horlogc Moral." The old man was lapsing fast into
second childhood, but with his senility a large dash of charla-

THE BREAK-UP AT GORE HOUSE. 165

tanerie was very obviously combined. On the occasion I allude
to, a brother of Napoleon, one of the ex-kings of the Bonaparte
family, was present for a short time, but on seeing Monsieur
Julien he immediately departed. Poor L.E.L., who was one
of the guests, was singled out by Julien for special instruction
in the use of the " Horloge Moral," and she allowed herself to
be victimized with most exemplary patience and good humor,
while Monsieur Julien was showing off the latest product of
his ethical and inventive faculties.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE BREAK-UP AT GORE HOUSE.

POOR Lady Blessington, when she launched into the enormous
expenditure of her magnificent establishments, first in Seamore
Place, next in Kensington Gore, had little idea of the difficulties
of her position in the fashionable world, with a jointure of
j£2000 a year, to meet all the extensive and incessant claims on
her resources, and those claims on them also of at least seven
or eight persons, members of her family, who were mainly de
pendent on her. Little was she aware of the nature of those
literary pursuits, and the precariousness of their remuneration,
from which she imagined she could derive secure and perma
nent emolument, that would make such an addition to her ordi
nary income as would enable her to make head against the vast
expenditure of her mode of life — an expenditure which the most
constant anxiety to reduce within reasonable limits, by an econ
omy of the most rigid kind in small household matters, was
wholly inadequate to accomplish.*

A lady of quality, who sits down in fashionable life to get a
livelihood by literature, or a large portion of the means neces-

* Lady Blessington's punctuality and strictness in examining accounts at reg
ular periods, inquiring into expenditure by servants, orders given to tradesmen,
and the use made of ordinary articles of consumption, were remarkable. She
kept a book of dinners, in which the names of all persons at each entertainment
were set down ; this register of guests served a double purpose, as a reference for
dates, and a check on the accounts of her maftre d'hotel.

166 THE BREAK-UP AT GORE HOUSE.

sary to sustain her in that position, at the hands of publishers,
had better build any other description of castles in the air, or, if
she must dream of " chateaus en Espagne," let it be of some
order of architecture less visionary.

Charles Lamb, the inimitable quaint teller of solemn truths,
in amusing terms, in a letter to Bernard Barton, the (Quaker
poet, in 1823, thus speaks of " literature as a calling to get a
livelihood."

" What ! throw yourself on the world without any rational plan
of support beyond what the chance of employment of booksell
ers would afford you ? Throw yourself rather, my dear sir, from
the steep Tarpeian rock slap-dash, headlong down upon iron
spikes.

" I have known many authors want bread : some repining,
others enjoying the sweet security of a spunging house ; all
agreeing they had rather have been tailors, weavers, what not,
rather than the things they were ! I have known some starved
— some go mad — one dear friend literally dying in a work-house.

" 0 ! you know not, may you never know, the miseries of sub
sisting by authorship ! 'Tis a pretty appendage to situations like
yours or mine, but a slavery worse than all slavery to be a book
seller's dependent ; to drudge your brains for pots of ale and
breasts of mutton ; to change your free thoughts and voluntary
numbers for ungracious task-work ! The booksellers hate us."

If Lamb had been an Irishman, one might imagine that the
" h" in the penultimate word was an interpolation of some sar
castic copyist, who had been infelicitous in authorship, and that
we should read ate, and not hate. Emolument from literature
must have been looked to by Lady Blessington, not in the sense
of Lamb's pretty appendage to his situation, but as a main re
source, to meet an expenditure which her ordinary income could
not half suffice for.

The establishment of Gore House, and the incidental expendi
ture of its noble mistress, could not have been less than jC40QO
a year. Lady Blcssington's jointure was only .£2000. But
then it must be borne in mind, a very large portion of that ex
penditure was incurred for aid and assistance given to members

THE BREAK-UP AT GORE HOUSE. 167

of her family, and that she frequently stated in her letters, par
ticularly in those to Mr. Landor, that nothing would induce her
to continue her literary labors hut to be enabled to provide for
those who were dependent 011 her.

There is a passage in a letter of Sir Walter Scott, in reference
to the costly efforts made by a lady of literary tastes to maintain
a position in literary society, or rather to be the centre of a lit
erary circle, which well deserves attention.

In his diary while in Italy, Sir Walter makes mention of "Lyd-
ia White." " Went to poor Lydia White's, and found her ex
tended on a couch, frightfully swelled, unable to stir, rouged,
jesting, and dying. She has a good heart, and is really a clever
creature ; but unhappily, or rather happily, she has set the
whole staff of her life in keeping literary society about her. The
world has not neglected her ; it is not always so bad as it is
called. She can always make up her circle, and generally has
some people of real talent and distinction. She is wealthy, to
be sure, and gives petits diners, but not in a style to carry the
point a force d'argent. In her case the world is good-natured,
and perhaps it is more frequently so than is generally sup
posed."*

Of the false position of distinguished women in society, it has
been very justly observed, in a notice of the life of Madame de
Stael :

" The aspect of ill-will makes women tremble, however dis
tinguished they may be. Courageous in misfortune, they are
timid against enmity. Thought exalts them, yet their character
remains feeble and timid. Most of the women in whom the
possession of high faculties has awakened the desire of fame,
are like Erminia in her warlike accoutrements. The warriors
see the casque, the lance, the shining plume ; they expect to
meet force, they attack with violence, and with the first stroke
reach the heart."

Troubles and afflictions of various kinds had fallen on Lady
i Blessington, in quick succession, from the year 1843. The loss
' of fortune and the loss of friends, trials of different kinds, pe-

* Lockhart's Life of Sir W, Scott.

168 THE BREAK-UP AT GORE HOUSE.

cuniary difficulties, and humiliations, had followed each other
with little intermission of late years. In the latter part of 1845,
the effects of the potato blight and the famine in Ireland made
themselves felt in the magnificent salons in London and on the
Continent, even in the place of sojourn of the Irish aristocracy.
The sumptuous apartments of Gore House were made intimately
acquainted with them.

By the robbery of plate, jewelry, and other valuables, that
was committed in Lady Blessington's house in Seamore Place, a
loss of upward of jClOOO had been sustained. By the failure
of Charles Heath, the engraver, she incurred a loss of £700.

The difficulties of Count D'Orsay had contributed also not in
a small degree to the derangement of her affairs ; and those dif
ficulties had commenced at a very early period of his career in
London, while Lady Blessington was residing in Seamore Place,
and the count in a small house in Curzon Street, nearly opposite
Lord Chesterfield's. The count was arrested, soon after his ar
rival in England, for a debt of £300 to his boot-maker in Paris,
Mr. McHenry, and was only saved from imprisonment by the
acceptance, on the part of his creditor, of bail on that occasion.*

In October, 1846, when difficulties were pressing heavily on
Lady Blessington, she received a letter (in the handwriting of
a lady who signs herself M. A.), from which the following ex
tract appears to have been taken :

" Well may it be said, * Sweet are the uses of adversity,' which,
like the toad, ugly and venomous, bears yet a precious jewel in
its head ! ! and its chief advantage is, that it enables us to
judge our real friends from false ones. Rowland Hill on one
occasion* (preaching to a large congregation on men's trust in
the friendship of the world) observed, that his own acquaint-

* I have been informed by Mr. McHenry that he had allowed that debt to re
main unsettled for many years, and had consented to accept the security finally
offered to him on account of the very large obligations he felt under to the count;
for the mere fact of its being known in Paris that Count D'Orsay's boots were
made by McHenry, had procured for him the custom of all the tip-top exquisites
of Paris. Similar obligations existed in London, with similar relations between
the debtors and the indebted ; and similar results there between the count and his
tradesmen, but sometimes not of a nature so agreeable, frequently took place.

THE BREAK-UP AT GORE HOUSE. 169

ances would probably fill the church ; and he was quite certain
that his friends, at the most, would only fill the pulpit. Thus
many may say, and those, too, who may have expended thou
sands in entertaining selfish and cold-hearted men, who would
not render them a real service if they wanted one, or give a
sigh to their memory on hearing of their decease."

Poor Lady Blessingtoii's mind was ill at ease when she set
down the following observations in her commonplace book :

" Great trials demand great courage, and all our energy is
called up to enable us to bear them. But it is the minor cares
of life that wear out the body, because, singly and in detail, they
do not appear sufficiently important to engage us to rally our

force and spirits to support them Many minds that have

withstood the most severe trials have been broken down by a
succession of ignoble cares."

How much bitter experience must it have required to say so
much in so few words ? " When the sun shines on you, you
see your friends. It requires sunshine to be seen by them to
advantage. While it lasts, we are visible to them ; when it is
gone, and our horizon is overcast, they are invisible to us."

And elsewhere, another " Night Thought" is to a similar ef
fect :

" Friends are the thermometers by which we may judge the
temperature of our fortunes."

" There is no knowledge for which so great a price is paid as
a knowledge of the world ; and no one ever became an adept in
it except at the expense of a hardened or a wounded heart.

"M. B."

Lady Blessington makes reference to " a friend of long stand
ing, and deeply interested in her welfare," who had been con
sulted by her at the period of her most serious embarrassments,
and who had addressed the following letter to her ladyship, with
out date or name, but probably written in 1848 :

" MY DEAREST FRIEND, — You do not do me more than justice in the belief
that I most fully sympathize with all your troubles, and I shall be only too
happy if my advice can in any way assist you.
Vol.. I.— H

!7Q THE BREAK-UP AT GORE HOUSE.

" First. As to your jointure, nothing in law is so indisputable as that a
widow's jointure takes precedence of every other claim on an estate. The
very first money the agent receives from the property should go to the dis-
char<TC of this claim. No subsequent mortgages, annuities, encumbrances,
law-suits, expenses of management, &c., can be permitted to interfere with
Ihe payment of jointure ; and as, whatever the distress of the tenants or the
embarrassments of the estate, it is clear that some rents must have come in
half-yearly, so, on those rents, you have an indisputable right ; and I think,
on consulting your lawyer, he will put you in a way, either by a memorial to
Chancery or otherwise, to secure in future the regular payment of this life-
charge. Indeed, on property charged with a jointure, although the rents are
not paid for months after the proper dates, the jointure must be paid on the
regular days ; and if not, the proprietor would become liable to immediate lit
igation. I am here presuming that you but ask for the jointure, due quarterly
or half-yearly, and not in advance, which, if the affairs are in Chancery, it
would be illegal to grant.

" Secondly. With respect to the diamonds, would it be possible or expedi
ent to select a certain portion (say half), which you least value on their own
account, and, if a jeweler himself falls too short in his offer, to get him to sell
them on commission 1 You must remember that every year, by paying in
terest on them, you are losing money on them, so that in a few years you
may thus lose more than by taking at once less than their true value. There
are diamond merchants, who, I believe, give more than jewelers ; and if you
know Anthony Rothschild, and would not object to speak to him, he might
help you.

" Thirdly. With respect to an illustrated work, I like your plan much ; and
I think any falling off is to be attributed to a relaxation in Heath himself, of
proper attention to the interests of the illustrations. You have apparently
some idea as to the plan and conception. I fancy that illustrations of our
most popular writers might be a novelty. Illustrations from Shakspeare — not
the female characters only, but scenes from the plays themselves — by good
artists, and the letter-press bearing upon the subject, might make a very sale
able and standard work. Again (and I think better), in this day, illustrations
from English scenery, ruins, and buildings might be very popular ; in fact,
if you could create a rational interest in the subject in the plates, your sale
and profit would be both larger and more permanent on the first demand, and
become a source of yearly income.

" You do perfectly right not to diminish your income by loans ; —
will wait your time, and I am sure that, with proper legal advice, you c;ui in
sure the regular payments of your jointure in future.

" I think I have thus given you the best hints I can on the different points
on which you have so kindly consulted me. I know well how, to those nr-
customcd to punctual payments, and with a horror of debt, pecuniary embar
rassments prey upon the mind. I3ut I think they may be borne, not only with

THE BREAK-UP AT GORE HOUSE. 171

ease, but with some degree of complacency, when connected with such gener
ous devotions and affectionate services as those which must console you amid
all your cares. In emptying your purse, you have at least filled your heart
with consolations, which will long outlast what I trust will be but the troub
les of a season."

In April, 1849, the clamors and importunate demands of
Lady Blessington's creditors harassed her, and made it evident
that an inevitable crash was coming. She had given bills to
her bankers, and her bond likewise, for various advances, in
anticipation of her jointure, to an amount approaching to £1500.
Immediately after the sale, the bankers acknowledged having
received from Mr. Phillips, the auctioneer, by her order, the sum
of £1500, leaving a balance only in their hands to her credit of
£1 1 . She had the necessity of renewing bills frequently as they
became due, and on the 24th of April, 1849, she had to renew

a bill of hers to a Mr. for a very large amount, which

would fall due on the 30th of the following month of May, four
days only before " the great debt of all debts" was to be paid
by her. »

In the spring of 1849, the long-menaced break-up of the es
tablishment of Gore House took place. Numerous creditors,
bill-discounters, money-lenders, jewelers, lace-venders, tax-col
lectors, gas-company agents, all persons having claims to urge,
pressed them at this period simultaneously. An execution for
a debt of .£4000 was at length put in by a house largely en
gaged in the silk, lace, India shawl, and fancy jewelry busi
ness. Some arrangements were made, a life insurance was
effected, but it became necessary to determine on a sale of the
whole of the effects for the interest of all the creditors.* Sev-

* For about two years previous to the break-up at Gore House, Lady Bless-
ington lived in the constant apprehension of executions being put in, and unceas
ing precautions in the admission of persons had to be taken both at the outer gate
and hall-door entrance. For a considerable period, too, Count D'Orsay had been
in continual danger of arrest, and was obliged to confine himself to the house and
grounds, except on Sundays, and in the dusk of the evening on other days. All
those precautions were, however, at length baffled by the ingenuity of a sheriff's
officer, who effected an entrance in a disguise, the ludicrousness of which had
some of the characteristics of farce, which contrasted strangely and painfully with
the denouement of a very serious drama.

Lady Blessington was no sooner informed, by a confidential servant, of the fact

172 THE BREAK-UP AT GORE HOUSE

cral of the friends of Lady Blessington urged on her pecuniary
assistance, which would have prevented the necessity of break
ing up the establishment. But she declined all offers of this
kind. The fact was, that Lady Blessington was sick at heart,
worn down with cares and anxieties, wearied out with difficul
ties and embarrassments daily augmenting, worried with inces
sant claims, and tired to death with demands she could not
meet. For years previously, if the truth was known, she was
sick at the heart's core of the splendid misery of her position—
of the false appearances of enjoyment in it — of the hollow
smiles by which it was surrounded — of the struggle for celeb
rity in that vortex of fashionable life and luxury in which she
had been plunged, whirling round and round in a species of
continuous delirious excitement, sensible of the madness of re
maining in the glare and turmoil of such an existence, and yet
unable to stir hand or foot to extricate herself from its obvious
dangers.

The public sale of the^recious artices of a boudoir, the bijou
terie and beautiful objects of art of the salons of a lady of fash
ion, awakens many reminiscences identified with the vicissitudes
in the fortunes of former owners, and the fate of those to whom
these precious things belonged. Lady Blessington, in her " Idler
in France," alludes to the influence of such lugubrious feelings,
when *lie went the round of the curiosity shops on the Q,uai
D'Orsay, and made a purchase of an amber vase of rare beauty,
said to have belonged to the Empress Josephine.

" When I see the beautiful objects collected together in these
shops, I often think of their probable histories, and of those to
whom they belonged. Each seems to identify itself with the
former owner, and conjures up in my rnind a little romance."

of the entrance of a sheriff's officer, and an execution being laid on her property,
than she immediately desired the messenger to proceed to the count's room, and
tell him that he must immediately prepare to leave England, as there would be no
safety for him, once the fact was known of the execution having been levied. The
count was at first incredulous — bah ! after bah ! followed each sentence of the ac
count given him of the entrance of the sheriff's officer. At. length, after seeing
Lady Blessington, the necessity for his immediate departure became apparent.
The following morning, with a single portmanteau, attended by his valet, he set
out for Paris, and thus ended the London life of Count D'Orsay.

THE BREAK-UP AT GORE HOUSE. 173

" Vases of exquisite workmanship, chased gold etuis, enriched
with Oriental agate and brilliants that had once probably be
longed to some grandes dames of the court ; pendules of gilded
bronze, one with a motto in diamonds on the back — ' Vous me
faites oublier les heures' — a nuptial gift ; a flacon of most del
icate workmanship, and other articles of bijouterie, bright and
beautiful as when they left the hands of the jeweler. The gages
d'amour are scattered all around ; but the givers and receivers,
where are they ? Mouldering in the grave long years ago.

" Through how many hands may these objects have passed
since death snatched away the persons for whom they were
originally designed ! And here they are, in the ignoble custody
of some avaricious vendor, who, having obtained them at the
sale of some departed amateur for less than their first cost, now

expects to extort more than double the value of them !

4 And so will it be when I am gone,' as Moore's beautiful song
says ; the rare and beautiful bijouteries which I have collected
with such pains, and looked on with such pleasure, will proba
bly be scattered abroad, and find their resting-places, not in gild
ed salons, but in the dingy coffers of the wily brocanteurs, whose
exorbitant demands will preclude their finding purchasers."*

The property of Lady Blessington offered for sale was thus
eloquently described in the catalogue composed by that eminent
author of auctioneering advertisements, Mr. Phillips :

" Costly and elegant effects, comprising all the magnificent
furniture, rare porcelain, sculptures in marble, bronzes, and an
assemblage of objects of art and decoration, a casket of valuable
jewelry and bijouterie, services of rich chased silver and sil
ver-gilt plate, a superbly-fitted silver dressing-case, collection
of ancient and modern pictures, including many portraits of dis
tinguished persons ; valuable original drawings and fine engrav
ings, framed and in the portfolio ; the extensive and interesting
library of books, comprising upward of 5000 volumes ; expen
sive table-services of china and rich cut glass, and an infinity
of valuable and useful effects, the property of the Right Honor
able the Countess of Blessington, retiring to the Continent."
* The Idler in France, vol. ii., p. 53.

174 THE BREAK-UP AT GORE HOUSE.

On the 10th of May, 1849, I visited Gore House for the last
time. The auction was going on. There was a large assem
blage of people of fashion. Every room was thronged ; the well-
known library-saloon, in which the conversaziones took place,
was crowded, but not with guests. The arm-chair in which the
lady of the mansion was wont to sit was occupied by a stout,
coarse gentleman of the Jewish persuasion, busily engaged in
examining a marble hand extended on a book, the fingers of
which were modeled from a cast of those of the absent mistress
of the establishment.

People, as they passed through the room, poked the furniture,
pulled about the precious objects of art and ornaments of vari
ous kinds that lay on the table ; and some made jests and ribald
jokes on the scene they witnessed.

It was a relief to leave that room : I went into another, the
dining-room, where I had frequently enjoyed, "in goodly com
pany," the elegant hospitality of one who was indeed a " most
kind hostess." I saw an individual among the crowd of gazers
there who looked thoughtful and even sad. I remembered his
features. I had dined with the gentleman more than once in
that room. He was a humorist, a facetious man — one of the
editors of " Punch ;" but he had a heart, with all his customary
drollery, and penchant for fun and raillery. I accosted him, and
said, " "We have met here under different circumstances." Some
observations were made by the gentleman, which showed he
felt how very different indeed they were. I took my leave of
Mr. Albert Smith, thinking better of the class of facetious per
sons who are expected to amuse society on set occasions, as
well as to make sport for the public at fixed periods, than ever
I did before.

In another apartment, where the pictures were being sold,
portraits by Lawrence, sketches by Landseer and Maclise, in
numerable likenesses of Lady Blessington by various artists ;
several of the Count D'Orsay, representing him driving, riding
out on horseback, sporting, and at work in his studio ; his own
collection of portraits of all the frequenters of note or mark in
society of the villa Belvidere, the Palazzo Negroni, the Hotel

THE BREAK-UP AT GORE HOUSE. 175

Ney, Seamore Place, and Gore House, in quick succession, were
brought to the hammer. One whom I had known in most of
those mansions, my old friend Dr. Gluin, I met in this apart
ment.

This was the most signal ruin of an establishment of a person
of high rank I ever witnessed. Nothing of value was saved
from the wreck, with the exception of the portrait of Lady Bless-
ington by Chalon, and one or two other pictures. Here was a
total smash, a crash on a grand scale of ruin, a compulsory sale
in the house of a noble lady, a sweeping clearance of all its
treasures. To the honor of Lady Blessington be it mentioned,
she saved nothing, with the few exceptions I have referred to,
from the wreck. She might have preserved her pictures, ob
jects of virtu, bijouterie, &c., of considerable value, but she said
all she possessed should go to her creditors.

There have been very exaggerated accounts of the produce
of the sale of the effects and furniture of Lady Blessington at
Gore House.

I am able to state, on authority, that the gross amount of the
sale was j£13,385, and the net sum realized was £1 1,985 4s.

When it is considered that the furniture of this splendid man
sion was of the most costly description — that the effects com
prised a very valuable library, consisting of several thousand
volumes, bijouterie, ormolu candelabras and chandeliers, porce
lain and china ornaments, vases of exquisite workmanship, a
number of pictures by first-rate modern artists, the amount pro
duced by the sale will appear by no means large.

The portrait of Lady Blessington, by Lawrence, which cost
originally only £80, 1 saw sold for £336. It was purchased for
the Marquis of Hertford. The portrait of Lord Blessington, by
the same artist, was purchased by Mr. Fuller for £68 5s.

The admirable portrait of the Duke of Wellington, by Count
D'Orsay, was purchased for .£189, for the Marquis of Hertford.*

* This picture was D'Orsay's chef-d'oeuvre. The duke, I was informed by the
count, spoke of this portrait as the one he would wish to be remembered by in fu
ture years. He used frequently, when it was in progress, to come of a morning,
in full dress, to Gore House, to give the artist a sitting. If there was a crease or
a fold in any part of the dress which he did not like, he would insist on its being

176 THE BREAK-UP AT GORE HOUSE.

Landseer's celebrated picture of a spaniel sold for .£150 10^.

Landseer's sketch of Miss Power was sold for £57 10s.

Lawrence's pictures of Mrs. Iiichbald were sold for £48 6s.

The following" letter, from the French valet of Lady Blessing-
ton, giving an account of the sale at Gore House, contains some
passages, for those who make a study of human nature, of some
interest.

" Gore House, Kensington, May 8th, 1849.

" MY LADY, — J'ai recu votre lettrc hicr, et je me serais empresse d'y repon-
dre le meme jour, mais j'ai ete si occupe etant le premier de la vente qu'il m'a

ete impossible de la faire. J'ai vu Mr. P dans 1'apres midi. II avait un

commis ici pour prendre le prix des differents objcts vendu le 7 May, et que
vous avez sans doute rc^u maintenant, au dire des gens qui ont assiste a la
vente. Les choses se sont vendus avantageusement, et je dois aj outer que
Mr. Phillips n'a ricn neglige pour rendre la vente interessantc a toute la no
blesse d'ici.

" Lord Hertford a achete plusieurs choses, et ce n'est que dimanche dernier
fort tard dans 1'apres midi, qu'il est venu voir la maison, en un mot je pense
sans exageration, que le nombre de personnes qui sorit venus a la maison pen
dant les 5 jours quelle a ete en vuer que plus de 20,000 personnes y sont en
trees une tres grande quantite de catalogue ont ete vendu, et nous en vendons
encore tout les jours, car vous le savez, personnes n'est admis sans cela.
Plusieurs des personnes qui frequantent la maison sont venus les deux pre
miers jours.

" Je vous parle de cela my lady parceque j'ai su que Mr. Dick avait dit a un
de ses amis dans le salons qu'il y avait dans la maison une quantite d'articles
envoye par Mr. Phillips, ct comme j'ctais certain du contraire, je me suis ad-
dresse a Mr. Guthric, qui etait en ce moment dans le salon, ct qui lui meme
s'en est plaint a Mr. Dick. II a nio le fait, mais depuis j'ai acquit la certitude
qu'il avait avance cc que jc viens de vous dire. Je n'ai pas hesite a parler tres
haut dans le salon, persuade que je desabuserait la foule qui s'y trouvait.

" Le Dr. Quin est venu plusieurs fois et a paru prendre le plus grand in-
teret a ce qui se passait ici. M. Thackeray est venu aussi, et avait les larmes
aux yeux en partant. C'est pcut ctrc la sculc pcrsonnc que j'ai vu rcellement
affcctc en votre depart.

" J'ai 1'honneur d'etre, my lady, votre tres humble servitcur,

" F. A VILLON."

One of Lady Blessington's most intimate friends, in a note to
her ladyship, dated the 19th of May, 1849 (after the break-up at

altered. To use D'Orsay's words, the duke \vus so hard to be pleased, it was
most difficult to make a good portrait of him. When he consented to have any
thing done for him, he would have it done in the best way possible.

THE BREAK-UP AT GORE HOUSE. 177

Gore House and departure from London), writes, " I have not
been without an instinct or an impression for some time that
you were disturbed by those preoccupying anxieties which make
the presence of casual visitors irksome

" But, now that the change is once made, may it yield you all
that I hope it will. I trust now that what there is of pain will
remain for those who lose you. You can not but be enlivened
by those new objects and scenes of your new place of abode,
turbulent as it is. When that charm is done, you will come
back to us again. Meanwhile, what a time to be looking for
ward to ! One becomes absolutely sick wondering what is to be
the end of it all. I could fill books with tales which one new
courier after another brings of dismay, and misery, and of break -
ing-up abroad."

On the same sad subject came two letters, worthy of the kind
and noble-hearted person who wrote them.

From Mrs. T :

" Chesham Place, Friday, April, 1849.

MY DEAREST

"Is it true that you are going to Paris 1 If so, I hope I shall see you be
fore you go, for it would grieve me very much not to bid you good-by by word

of mouth, for who can tell when we may meet again ! Dearest , I

hardly like to say it, because you may think it intrusive, but M told me

some time ago that you were in difficulties, owing to the Irish estates not pay
ing, and told me to-day that awumor had reached her to this effect. If it be
true, I need not say how it grieves me. You have so often come forward in
our poor dearest mother's difficulties, so often befriended her, and us through
her, that it goes to my heart to think you are harassed as she was, and that I
am so poor that I can not act the same generous part you did by her. But,

dearest , I am at this moment in communication with Mr. P ,

through another lawyer, on the subject of the money left me by my mother.
* * * * Dearest , do not be offended with me, but in case I re
ceive my money (£1600) down, do make use of me. Remember I am your

own , and believe me I am not ungrateful, but love you dearly, and can

not bear to think of your being in trouble. I am offering what, alas ! Mr.

P may create a difficulty about, but I trust he will not, and that you will

not be angry or mistrust me, and consider me intrusive. Possibly there is no
truth in the rumor. If so, forget that I have ever seemed intrusive, and only

rest assured of my affection. May God bless you, my dearest .

" Ever your most affectionate , MARGUERITE ."

H 2

178 THE BREAK-UP AT GORE HOUSE.
From Mrs. T :

" 28th AprU, 1849.

" I was very glad to receive your affectionate note, my dearest , and

to know you are not offended with mine to you. I wrote to you from my
heart, and one is seldom misinterpreted at those times. While I live, dearest

, I shall have a heart to care for you, and feel a warm interest in your

happiness ; you must never let any thing create a doubt of this. Will you
promise me this 1

" I doubt not you will be happier in Paris. It saddens me, however, to feel
that, perhaps, we shall never meet again, and I am very, very sorry not to have
seen you, and bid you at least good-by.

" I can not say how much I have thought of you, and felt for you, dearest

, breaking up your old house. I know how poor dearest mamma felt

it, when such was her lot ; and you resemble each other in so many things !
Every one says you have acted most admirably in not any longer continuing
to run the chance of not receiving your annuity duly, but selling off, so as to
pay all you owe and injure no one. I think there is some little comfort in
feeling that good acts are appreciated, so I tell you this. I am half ashamed

of my little paltry offer. Dearest , I am so glad you were not affronted

with me, for I know you would have done the same over and over again by
me ; but then you always confer and never accept, and I have much to thank
you for, as well as my sisters, for you have been a most unselfish friend to each
and all of us.

********

" I should so like to know what is become of poor old Comte S . I

wrote to him at the beginning of the year, but have never had an answer. If
you meet him, do be kind to him, poor old man, in spite of his deafness and
blindness, which make him neglected by others, for he is a very old friend of
ours, and I feel an interest in the poor old mart, knowing so many good and
kind acts of his.

"Ever, dearest, yours most affectionately, MARGUERITE."

Lady Blessington and the two Misses Power left Gore House
on the 14th of April, 1849, for Paris. Count D'Orsay had set
out for Paris a fortnight previously.

For nineteen years Lady Blessington had maintained a posi
tion almost queenlike in the world of intellectual distinction, in
fashionable literary society, reigning over the best circles of
London celebrities, and reckoning among her admiring friends
and the frequenters of her salons the most eminent men of En
gland, in every walk of literature, art, and science, in statesman
ship, in the military profession, and every learned pursuit. For

THE BREAK-UP AT GORE HOUSE. 179

nineteen years she had maintained establishments in London
seldom surpassed, and still more rarely equaled in all the appli
ances to a state of society brilliant in the highest degree ; but,
alas ! it must be acknowledged at the same time, a state of
splendid misery, for a great portion of that time, to the mistress
of those elegant and luxurious establishments.

And now, at the expiration of those nineteen years, we find
her forced to abandon that position, to relinquish all those ele
gancies and luxuries by which she had been so long surrounded,
to leave her magnificent abode, and all the cherished works of
art and precious objects in it, to become the property of strangers,
and, in fact, to make a departure from the scene of all her for
mer triumphs, which it is in vain to deny was a flight effected
with privacy, most painful and humiliating to this poor lady to
be compelled to have recourse to.

Lady Blessington began her literary career in London in 1822,
with a small work in one vol. 8vo, entitled " Sketches of Scenes
in the Metropolis." It commences with an account of the ruin
of a large establishment in one of the fashionable squares of the
metropolis, and of an auction in the house of the late proprietor,
a person of quality, the sale of all the magnificent furniture and
effects, costly ornaments, precious objects of art, and Valuable
pictures.

And, strange to say, as if there was in the mind of the writer
a sort of prevision of future events of a similar nature occurring
in her own home at some future period, she informs us the name
of the ruined proprietor of the elegant mansion in the fashiona
ble square, the effects of which were under sale, was B .

The authoress says, sauntering through the gilded salons, crowd
ed with fashionables, brokers, and dealers in bijouterie, exquis
ites of insipid countenances and starched neckcloths, elderly
ladies of sour aspects, and simpering damsels, all at intervals in
the sale occupied with comments, jocose, censorious, sagacious,
or bitterly sarcastic on the misfortunes and extravagance of the

poor B 's, she heard on every side flippant and unfeeling

observations of this kind : " Poor Mrs. B will give no more

balls ;" " I always thought how it would end ;" " The B 's

180 THE BREAK-UP AT GORE HOUSE.

gave devilish good dinners, though ;" " Capital feeds, indeed ;"
" You could rely on a perfect supreme dc volatile" (at their table) ;
" "Where could you get such cotellcttes dcs pigeons a la Cham
pagne?" " Have you any idea of what has become of B ?"

" In the Bench, or gone to France, but (yawning) I really forget
all about it ;"' " I will buy his Vandyke picture ;" " It is a pity
that people who give such good dinners should be ruined ;" "A
short campaign and a brisk one for me ;" " Believe me, there is
nothing like a fresh start, and no man, at least no dinner-giving
man, should last more than two seasons, unless he would change
his cook every month, to prevent repetition of the same dishes,
and keep a regular roaster of his invitations, with a mark to each
name, to prevent people meeting twice at his house the same
season." The elderly ladies were all haranguing on " the fol
lies, errors, and extravagances of Mrs. B ." " Mr. B ,

though foolish and extravagant in some things, had considera
ble taste and judgment in some others ; for instance, his books
were excellent, well chosen, and well bought ;" " His busts, too,
arc very fine ;" " Give me B 's pictures, for they are exquis
ite ;" " That group, so exquisitely colored and so true to nature,
could only be produced by the inimitable pencil of a Lawrence."

"And this is an auction'.1" says the authoress, at the end of
the first sketch in her first work ; " a scene," she continues,
"that has been so often the resort of the young, the grave, and
the gay, is now one where those who have partaken of the hos
pitality of the once opulent owner of the mansion now come to
witness his downfall, regardless of his misfortune, or else to
exult in their own contrasted prosperity."*

This sketch would indeed have answered for the auction
scene at Gore House in 1849, seven-and-twenty years after it
had been penned by Lady Blessington.

Her ladyship thus commenced her literary career in 1822
with a description of the ruin of an extravagant person of qual
ity in one of our fashionable squares in London, with an account
of the break-up of his establishment and the auction of his ef
fects, and a similar career terminates in the utter smash and the
*• Thf> " Magir Lantern," &e., p. 1, 2, 3. London : Longman, 1822.

ARRIVAL OF LADY BLESSINGTON IN PARIS. 181

sale at Gore in 1849. There are many stranger things 'twixt
heaven and earth than are dreamed of in the philosophy of our
Horatios of fashionable society.

CHAPTER XI.

ARRIVAL OF LADY BLESSINGTON IN PARIS THE MIDDLE OF APRIL,

1849. HER LAST ILLNESS, AND DEATH ON THE 4TH OF JUNE

FOLLOWING. NOTICE OF HER DECEASE.

LADY BLESSINGTON and her nieces arrived in Paris in the
middle of April, 1849. She had a suite of rooms taken for her
in the Hotel de la Ville d'Eveque, and there she remained till
the 3d of June. The jointure of £2000 a year was now the
sole dependence of her ladyship, and the small residue of the
produce of the sale of her effects at Gore House, after paying
the many large claims of her creditors and those of Count D'Orsay.

Soon after her arrival in Paris, she took a moderate-sized but
handsome appartement in the Rue du Cerq, close to the Champs
Elysees, which she commenced furnishing with much taste and
elegance ; her preparations were at length completed, but they
were destined to be in vain. In the brief interval between her
arrival in Paris and her taking possession of her new apartment
on the 3d of June, she received the visits of many of her former
acquaintances, and seemed in better spirits than she had been
for a long time previously to her departure from London.

The kindness she met with in some quarters, and especially
at the hands of several members of the Grammont family, was
at once agreeable and encouraging. But the coolness of the
accueil of other persons who had been deeply indebted to her
hospitality in former times was somewhat more chilling than
she had expected to find, and the warm feelings of her gener
ous heart and noble nature revolted at it.

Prince Louis Napoleon, on Lady Blessington's arrival in Paris,
requested her to come to the palace of the Elysee, where he then
resided ; she went, accompanied by Count D'Orsay and the two
Misses Power. He subsequently invited them to dinner. He

182 ARRIVAL OF LADY BLESSINGTON IN PARIS.

had been one of the most constant and intimate guests at Gore
House, both before and after his imprisonment at Ham. He
used to dine there whenever there were any distinguished per
sons, whether English or foreign. He was on the most familiar
and intimate terms with Lady Blessington and her circle, join
ing them in parties to Greenwich, Richmond, &c. ; and all his
friends, as well as himself, were made welcome, and on his es
cape from Ham he came to Gore House straight on his arrival
in London, giving Lady Blessington the first intimation of his
escape.

On that occasion, at Count D'Orsay's advice, he wrote at once
to Monsieur St. Aulaire, then embassador in London, stating that
he had no intention of creating any ferment or disturbance, but
meant to reside quietly as a private individual in London. Lady
Blessington proffered some pecuniary assistance to the prince,
and both Lady Blessington and Count D'Orsay manifested their
earnest desire and willingness to aid him in any way they could
be made serviceable to him. While he needed their services,
and influence, and hospitality, the prince expressed himself al
ways most grateful for them. But with the need, the sense
of the obligations ceased.

There is no doubt on the minds of some of the friends even
of Prince Louis Napoleon but that the active and unceasing
exertions and influence of Count D'Orsay and his friends and
connections in Paris went far to aid his election as President.
D'Orsay rallied to his party Emile de Girardin, one of the ablest
and boldest journalists of the day, but who subsequently became
a formidable opponent. The chief cause of his ingratitude to
Count D'Orsay was believed to have been his apprehension of
being supposed to be advised or influenced by any one who had
been formerly intimate with him ; a fear which has induced
him to surround his person with men of mean intellect and of
servile dispositions, pliant, indigent, and unscrupulous follow
ers, of no station in society, or character for independence or
integrity of principle.

Lady Blessington began to form plans for a new literary ca
reer : she engaged her thoughts in projecting future works, in

LAST ILLNESS AND DEATH. 183

making new arrangements for the reception of the beau monde.
She employed a great deal of her time daily in superintending
the furnishing of her new apartment ; in the way of embellish
ments, or luxuries, or comforts, some new wants had to be sup
plied every day. The old story of unsatisfied desires ever seeking
fulfillment, and never contented with the fruition of present en
joyments, applies to every phase in life, even the most checkered :

" Like our shadows,
Our wishes lengthen as our sun declines."

The sun of Lady Blessington's life was now declining fast ;
and even when it had reached the verge of the horizon, its going
down was unnoticed by those around her, and the suddenness
of its disappearance occasioned no little surprise, and gave rise
to many vague surmises and idle rumors.

There were some striking coincidences in the circumstances
attending the deaths of Lord and Lady Blessington.

In May, 1829, Lord Blessington returned to Paris from En
gland, purposing to fix his abode there for some months at least ;
and on the 23d of the same month, a few weeks after his arrival,
without previous warning or indisposition, " appearing to be in
good health," he was suddenly attacked by apoplexy, while
riding on the Champs d'Elysee, and died the same day, in a
state of insensibility.

Twenty years from that date, Lady Blessington arrived in
Paris from London, purposing to fix her abode there ; and on
the 4th of June, having made all suitable preparations for a long
residence in Paris, and after a sojourn there of about five weeks,
without previous warning or indisposition, she was suddenly at
tacked by an apoplectic malady, complicated with disease of the
heart, and was carried off suddenly, at her abode adjoining the
Champs d'Elysee,being quite unconscious, during the brief period
of the struggle, of the fatal issue that was about to take place.

A few weeks before that event, a British peeress, whom I
have had the pleasure of meeting at Gore House in former days,
wrote to Lady Blessington at Paris, reminding her of a promise
that had been extorted from her, and entreating of her to re
member her religious duties, and to attend to them.

184

LAST ILLNESS AND DEATH.

Poor Lady Blessington always received any communication
made to her on this subject with respect, and even with a feel
ing of gratitude for the advice given by her. She acted on it
solely on one or two occasions, in Paris, when she accompanied
the Duchess de Grammont to the Church of the Madeleine on
the Sabbath.

But no serious idea of abandoning the mode of life she led
had been entertained by her. Yet she had a great fear of death,
and sometimes spoke of a vague determination, whenever she
should be released from the chief cares of her career — the toils
and anxieties of authorship, the turmoil of her life in salons and
intellectual circles — that she would turn to religion, and make
amends for her long neglect of its duties by an old age of retire
ment from society, and the withdrawal of her thoughts and af
fections from the vanities of the world. But the proposed time
for that change was a future which was not to come ; and the
present time was ever to her a period in which all thoughts of
death were to be precluded, and every amusing and exciting
topic was to be entertained which was capable of absorbing at
tention for the passing hour.

An extract of a letter from Miss Power to the author, on the
death of Lady Blessington, will give a very accurate and de
tailed account of her last illness and death :

" Rue de la Ville 1'Eveque, No. 38, February 18th, 1850.

" On arriving in Paris, my aunt adopted a mode of life differing considera
bly from the sedentary one she had for such a length of time pursued ; she
rose earlier, took much exercise, and, in consequence, lived somewhat higher
than was her wont, for she was habitually a small cater. This appeared to
agree with her general health, for she looked well, and was cheerful ; but she
began to suffer occasionally (especially in the morning) from oppression and
difficulty of breathing. These symptoms, slight at first, she carefully concealed
from Qur knowledge, having always a great objection to medical treatment ; but
as they increased in force and frequency, she was obliged to reveal them, and
medicaj aid was immediately called in. Dr. Leon Simon pronounced there was
' cnergie du coeur,' but that the symptoms in question proceeded probably from
bronchitis — a disease then very prevalent in Paris; that they were nervous,
and entailed no danger ; and as, after the remedies he prescribed, the attacks
diminished perceptibly in violence, and that her general health seemed little
affected by them, he entertained no serious alarm.

LAST ILLNESS AND DEATH. 185

" On the 3d of June she removed from the hotel we had occupied during the
seven weeks we had passed in Paris, and entered the residence which my poor
aunt had devoted so much pains and attention to the selecting and furnishing
of, and that same day dined enfamille with the Due and Duchesse de Quiche
(Count D'Orsay's nephew). On that occasion, my aunt seemed particularly
well in health and spirits, and it being a lovely night, and our residences lying
contiguous, we walked home by moonlight. As usual, I aided my aunt to
undress — she never allowed her maid to sit up for her — and left her a little
after midnight. She passed, it seems, some most restless hours (she was ha
bitually a bad sleeper), and early in the morning, feeling the commencement
of one of the attacks, she called for assistance, and Dr. Simon was immediately
sent for, the symptoms manifesting themselves with considerable violence;
and, in the mean time, the remedies he had ordered — sitting upright, rubbing
the chest and upper stomach with ether, administering ether internally, &c. —
were all resorted to without effect. The difficulty of breathing became so ex
cessive, that the whole of the chest heaved upward at each/inspiration, which
was inhaled with a loud whooping noise, the face was swolten and purple, the
eyeballs distended, and utterance almost wholly denied, while the extremities
gradually became cold and livid, in spite of every attempt to restore the vital
heat. By degrees, the violence of the symptoms abated ; she uttered a few
words : the first, ' The violence is over, I can breathe freer ;' and soon after,
' Qu'elle heure est-ill' Thus encouraged, we deemed the danger past ; but,
alas ! how bitterly were we deceived ; she gradually sunk from that moment ;
and when Dr. Simon, who had been delayed by another patient, arrived, he
saw that hope was gone ; and, indeed, she expired so easily, so tranquilly,
that it was impossible to perceive the moment when her spirit passed away.

" The day but one following, the autopsy took place, when it was discov
ered that enlargement of the heart to nearly double the natural size, which en
largement must have been progressing for a period of at least twenty-five
years, was the cause of dissolution, though incipient disease of the stomach
and liver had complicated the symptoms. The body was then embalmed by
Dr. Ganal, and deposited in the vaults of the Madeleine, while the monument
was being constructed, a task to which Count D'Orsay devoted the whole of
his time and attention. He bids me to say that he is about to have a da
guerreotype taken of the place, a drawing of which we shall have forwarded
to you.*

" The mausoleum is a pyramid of granite, standing on a square platform, on
a level with the surrounding ground, but divided from it by a deep fosse, whose
sloping sides are covered with green turf and Irish ivy, transplanted from the
•garden of the house where she was born. It stands on a hill-side, just above
the village cemetery, and overlooks a view of exquisite beauty and immense
extent, taking in the Seine, winding through the fertile valley and the forest

* From that daguerreotype, the sketch given in this work has been exactly
copied by an artist very highly gifted.

186 MONUMENT TO HER MEMORY.

of St. Germain ; plains, villages, and far-distant hills ; and at the back and
side it is sheltered by chestnut-trees of large size and great age : a more pic
turesque spot it is difficult to imagine. M. A. POWER."

From Mrs. Homer's account of this monument the following
passages are taken :

" Solid, simple, and severe, it combines every requisite in har
mony with its solemn destination ; no meretricious ornaments,
no false sentiment, mar the purity of its design. The genius
which devised it has succeeded in cheating the tomb of its hor
rors, without depriving it of its imposing gravity. The simple
portal is surmounted by a plain massive cross of stone, and a
door, secured by an open-work of bronze, leads into a sepulchral
chamber, the key of which has been confided to me. All within
breathes the holy calm of eternal repose ; no gloom, no mould
ering damp, nothing to recall the dreadful images of decay. An
atmosphere of peace appears to pervade the place, and I could
almost fancy that a voice from the tomb whispered, in the words
of Dante's Beatrice,

" ' Io sono in pace !'

" The light of the sun, streaming through a glazed aperture
above the door, fell like a ray of heavenly hope upon the sym
bol of man's redemption — a beautiful copy, in bronze, of Michael
Angelo's crucified Savior — which is affixed to the wall facing
the entrance. A simple stone sarcophagus is placed on either
side of the chamber, each one surmounted by two white marble
tablets, incrusted in the sloping walls."

The monument was visited by me a few weeks before the
death of Count D'Orsay. It stands on a platform or mound,
carefully trenched, adjoining the church-yard, and approached
from it. The sepulchral chamber is on a level with the plat
form from which you enter. Within are two stone sarcophagi
(side by side), and in one of these is deposited the coffin con
taining the remains of Lady Blessington, covered with a large
block of granite. On the wall above (on the left hand side of
the vault) are the two inscriptions ; one by Barry Cornwall, the
other — that which has led to a correspondence.

The first inscription above referred to is in the following terms :

INSCRIPTIONS TO HER MEMORY. 187

" IN MEMORY OP

MARGUERITE, COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON,

WHO DIED ON THE 4rTH OF JUNE, 1849.

In her lifetime

She was loved and admired

For her many graceful writings,

Her gentle manners, her kind and generous heart.

Men, famous for art and science

In distant lands,

Sought her friendship :

And the historians and scholars, the poets, and wits, and painters,

Of her own country,

Found an unfailing welcome

In her ever hospitable home.

She gave cheerfully to all who were in need,

Help, and sympathy, and useful counsel ;

And she died
Lamented by her friends.

They who loved her best in life, and now lament her most,

Have raised this tributary marble

Over the place of her rest."

BARRY CORNWALL.

The other inscription, altered from one written by Walter
Savage Landor, is as follows :

" Hie est dcpositum
Quod superest mulieris
Quondam pulcherrimse
Benefacta celare potuit
Ingenium suum non potuit
Peregrinos quoslibet
Grata hospitalitate convocabat
Lutetiae Parisiorum
Ad meliorem vitam abiit
Die iv mensis Junii

MDCCCXLIX."

The original inscription, by W. S. Landor, is certainly, in all
respects but one, preferable to the substituted ; and that one is
the absence of all reference to a future state :

" Infra sepvltvm est id omne qvod sepeliri potest

mvlieris qvondam pvlcherrimse.
Ingenivm swm svmmo stvdio colavit,

lgg INSCRIPTIONS TO HER MEMORY.

aliorvm pari adjvvit.

Benefacta sva cclare novit ; ingenivm non ita.

Erga omnis erat larga bonitate

peregrinis eleganter hospitalis.

Venit Lvtetiam Parisiorvm April! mense :

qvarto Jvnii die svpremvm svvm obiit."

The following English version of the above inscription has
been given by Mr. Landor :

TO THE MEMORY OF MARGUERITE, COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON.

" Underneath is buried all that could be buried of a woman
once most beautiful. She cultivated her genius with the great
est zeal, and fostered it in others with equal assiduity. The
benefits she conferred she could conceal — her talents not. Ele
gant in her hospitality to strangers, charitable to all, she retired
to Paris in April, and there she breathed her last, on the 4th of
June, 1849."*

There is an epitaph 011 the tomb of a daughter-in-law of Dry-
den, who died in 1712, and was buried in Kiel Church, in Staf
fordshire — (see " Monurnenta Anglic.," p. 154) — where some ex
pressions occur somewhat similar to those which Mr. Landor has
taken exception to in the substituted inscription. It runs thus :

" Hacc quo erat, forma et genere illustrior,
eo se humiliorem prsebuit maritum honorando

familiam praecipue Liberos fovendo
pauperes sublevando, peregrines omnes decore

* On the subject of this inscription, Mr. Landor addressed a long letter to the
"Athenaeum," complaining of the alterations which had been made in the Latin
lines he had written, from which I will only extract the concluding paragraphs.

" It may be thought superfluous to remark that epitaphs have certain qualities
in common ; for instance, all arc encomiastic. The main difference and the main
difficulty lie in the expression, since nearly all people are placed on the same level
in the epitaph as in the grave. Hence, out of eleven or twelve thousand Latin
ones, ancient and modern, I find scarcely threescore in which there is originality
or elegance. Pure latinity is not uncommon, and is perhaps as little uncommon
in the modern as in the ancient, where certain forms exclude it, to make room for
what appeared more venerable. Nothing is now left to be done but to bring for
ward in due order and just proportions the better peculiarities of character com
posing the features of the dead, and modulating the tones of grief.

"WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR."

HER AGE. 189

proximosque ct vecinos humaniter excipiendo,
ut neminem reperisses decidentum :
non prius devinctum, mira hujus
et honesta raorum suavitate."

The age of Lady Blessingtoii has been a subject of some con
troversy. She was bom, we are informed by her niece (on the
authority, I have reason to believe, of her aunt) the 1st of Sep
tember, 1790. She died the 4th of June, 1849 ; hence it would
appear her age was fifty-eight years and nine months. From
inquiries that were made by me in Clonmel, and examination
of the marriage registry, it was ascertained that Lady Blessing-
ton had been married the 7th of March, 1804. She must then
have been about fifteen years of age ; but, according to the first
account, she would have been only fourteen years of age the
1st of September, 1804.*

Lady Blessington stated to me that she was married in 1804,
and was then under fifteen years of age. Had she been born
the 1st of September, 1789, she would have been fifteen years
of age on the 1st of September, 1804.

The probability then is that she was born in 1789, and not in
1790, and was therefore sixty years of age, less by two months,
when she died.

Ellen, Lady Canterbury (her youngest sister), in the account
of her death in " the Annual Register," is stated to have died
in her fifty-fourth year, the 16th November, 1845. From this
it would appear that she was born in the latter part of 1791.

Mary Anne, Countess St, Marsault, the youngest of all the
children of B&mund Power, I am informed was fifteen years
younger than Lady Blessington. If this be the case, and Lady
Blessington was born in 1789, the Countess of Marsault must
have been born in 1804, and would be now fifty years of age.

But if I might hazard an opinion on so delicate a subject as

* A person intimately acquainted with Lady Blessington's family is the editor
of a Clonmel paper, in which the following paragraph appeared :

" THE LATE LADY BLESSINGTON. — A Dublin solicitor has just been in Clon
mel, for the purpose of exactly ascertaining the age of the late Countess of Bless
ington, in reference to an insurance claim. She was not so old at her death as
the newspapers said, having been married in 1804, at the early age of fifteen years,
so that she was only sixty years old at her decease."

IQQ COUNT D'ORSAY'S GRIEF.

a lady's age, I would venture to set down the date of that event
as 1801, and not 1804.

In a letter from Miss Power, dated 12th of July, 1849, then
residing at Charnbourcy Pres de St. Germain-cn-Laye (the seat
of the Duchcsse de Grammont, the sister of Count D'Orsay), the
loss of Lady Blessirigton is thus referred to :

" Count D'Orsay would himself have answered your letter, but
had not the nerve or the heart to do so ; although the subject
occupies his mind night and day, he can not speak of it but to
those who have been his fellow-sufferers ; it is like an image
ever floating before his eyes, which he has got, as it were, used
to look upon, but which he can not yet bear to grasp and feel
that it is real : much as she was to us, we can not but feel that
to him she was all ; the centre of his existence, round which
his recollections, thoughts, hopes, and plans turned ; and just at
the moment she was about to commence a new mode of life, one
that promised a rest from the occupation and anxieties that had
for some years fallen to her share, death deprived us of her."

On D'Orsay's first visit to the tomb where the remains of
Lady Blessington had been deposited, his anguish is said to have
been most poignant and heart-rending. He seemed almost phren-
sied at times, bewildered and stupefied ; and then, as if awaken
ed suddenly to a full consciousness of the great calamity that
had taken place, he would lament the loss he had sustained as
if it had occurred only the day before. His state of mind might
be described in the words of an Arabic poem, translated by Sir
William Jones :

" Torn from loved friends, in Death's cold caverns laid,
I sought their haunts with shrieks that pierced the air ;
' Where are they hid 1 oh ! where V I wildly said ;
And Fate, with sullen echo, mocked, ' 0 where? "*

A notice of the death of Lady Blessington appeared in " the
Athenaeum" of June 9th, 1849, written by one who appears to
have known Lady Blessington well, and to have appreciated
fully her many excellent qualities.

" Only a fortnight since, the journals of London were laying

* Translation from ;m Aniliir j>oct, by the late Sir William Jones.

NOTICE OF HER DEATH. 191

open to public gaze the Belies of a house which for some dozen
years past has been an object of curiosity, and a centre of pleas
urable recollection to many persons distinguished in literature
and art, abroad and at home.

" The Countess of Blessington, it appears, lived just long
enough to see her gates closed and her treasures dispersed ; for
on Tuesday arrived from Paris tidings that, within a few hours
after establishing herself in her new mansion there, she died
suddenly of apoplexy on Monday last.

" Few departures have been attended with more regrets than
will be that of this brilliant and beautiful woman in the circle
to which her influences have been restricted. It is unnecessary
to sum up the writings published by Lady Blessington within
the last eighteen years, commencing by her ' Conversations with
Lord Byron,' and including her lively and natural French and
Italian journals, half a score of novels, the most powerful among
which is ' The Victims of Society,' detached thoughts and fugi
tive verses, since these are too recent to call for enumeration.

" As all who knew the writer will bear us out in saying, they
faintly represent her gifts and graces, her command over anec
dote, her vivacity of fancy, her cordiality of manner, and her
kindness of heart. They were hastily and slightly thrown off
by one with whom authorship was a pursuit assumed rather
than instinctive — in the intervals snatched from a life of unself
ish good offices and lively social intercourse.

" From each one of the vast variety of men of all classes, all
creeds, all manner of acquirements, and all color of political
opinions, whom Lady Blessington delighted to draw around her,
she had skill to gather the characteristic trait, the favorite ob
ject of interest, with a fineness of appreciation to be exceeded
only by the retentiveness of her memory.

" Thus, until a long series of family bereavements and the
pressure of uncertain health had somewhat dimmed the gayety
of her spirits, her conversation had a variety of reminiscence, a
felicity of a propos, and a fascination, of which her writings of
fer faint traces. In one respect, moreover, her talk did not re
semble the talk of other beaux csprits. With the eagerness of a

192 LITERARY CAREER OF LADY BLESSINGTON.

/ child, she could amuse and persuade J^erself as entirely as she
amused and persuaded others. Among all the brilliant wom
en we have known, she was one of the most earnest — earnest
in defense of the absent, in protection of the unpopular, in ad
vocacy of the unknown ; and many are those who can tell how
generously and actively Lady Blessington availed herself of her
widely-extended connections throughout the world to further
their success or to promote their pleasures. In her own family
she was warmly beloved as an indefatigable friend, and eagerly
resorted to as an unwearied counselor. How largely she was
trusted by some of the most distinguished men of her time, her
extensive and varied correspondence will show, should it ever
be given to the world. Into the causes which limited her gifts
and graces within a narrower sphere than they might otherwise
have commanded, we have no commission to enter."*

CHAPTER X.

NOTICE OF THE CAREER, LITERARY TASTES, AND TALENTS OF
LADY BLESSINGTOX.

WITH respect to the influence exercised in society over per
sons of exalted intellect by fascinating manners, personal at
tractions, liveliness of fancy, quickness of apprehension, close
ness of observation, and smartness of repartee, among the liter
ary ladies of England of the present or past century, it would
be difficult to find one with whom Lady Blessington can be fit
ly compared. The power of pleasing, of engaging attention, of
winning, not only admiration, but regard and friendship, which
the latter lady possessed, and long and successfully exerted over
men of genius and talents of the highest order, and of every pro
fession and pursuit, has been seldom surpassed in any country.

It would not be difficult to point out ladies of celebrity as bay
bints of far superior abilities as authoresses, of imaginations
with richer stores of wit and poetry, of more erudition, and bet
ter cultivated talents ; but we shall find none who, for an equal
length of time, maintained an influence of fascination in litera-

* The Athenaeum, June Oth, 1849.

LITERARY CAREER OF LADY BLESSINGTON. 193

ry and fashionable society over the highest intellects, and exer
cised dominion over the feelings as well as over the faculties
of those who frequented her abode.

Grimm, in his " Memoires Litteraires et Anecdotaires," makes
mention of a Madam Geoffrin, the friend of D'Alembcrt, Mar-
montel, Condorcet, Morellet, and many other illustrious littc-
raires, whose character and mental qualities, agrements, esprit,
finesse de I'art, bonte de c&ur, et habitudes dc bienfaisancc, would
appear, from his account of them, very remarkably en rapport
with the qualities of mind arid natural dispositions of Lady Bless-
ington. Those of Lady Mary Wortley, Lady Craven, Lady
Holland, and Lady Morgan, present no such traits of resem
blance fitly to be compared with the peculiar graces, attrac
tions, and kindly feelings of Lady Blessington.

D'Alembert has consecrated some lines of homage to his
friend and benefactress, in a letter published in the " Memoires
Litteraires et Historiques." "We learn from it that Madam
GeofTrin's salons were open nightly to the artists, literati, minis
ters of state, grandees, and courtiers. Authors were not assured
of the success of their new works till they had been to Madam
Geoffrin 's soirees, and a smile and an encouraging expression of
the sovereign of the salons set their hearts at ease on the sub
ject of their productions.

Helvetius, when he published his book "Dc 1'Esprit," felt no
confidence in its reception by the public till he had consulted
Madam : ce thermometre de 1'opinion.

" Madam Geoffrin n'avoit guerre des eimemis que parmi les
femmes." She had all the tastes, we are told, of a sensitive,
gentle creature, of a noble and a loving nature. " La passion
de donner qui fut le bcsoin de sa vie, etoit nee avec elle et la
tourmenta pour ainsi dire dc ses premieres annees." She had
aptly taken for her device the words " Donner et pardonner."

There was nothing brilliant in her talents, but she was an ex
cellent sayer of good things in short sentences. She gave din
ners, and there was a great eclat in her entertainments : "Mais
il faut autre choscs quc dcs diners pour occupcr dans le monde la
place gne crtte femmc estimable s'y etait faitc."

VOL. I.— I

194 LITERARY CAREER OF LADY BLESSINGTON.

Monsieur Malesherbes was happily characterized by her,
'; rhommc du mondc le plus simplement simple." She said, among
the weaknesses of people, their vanity must be endured, and
their talk, even when there was nothing in. it. " I accommodate
myself," she said, " tolerably well to eternal talkers, provided
they are chatterers, and that only, who have no idea of any
thing but talking, and do not expect to be replied to. My friend
Fontenellc, who bears with them as 1 do, says they give his
lungs repose. I derive another advantage from them ; their in
significant gabble is to me like the tolling of bells, which does
not hinder one from thinking, but often rather invites thought."

"When her friends spoke of the enmity to her of some persons,
and made some allusion to her many generous acts, she turned
to D'Alembert and said, " "When you find people have feelings
of hatred to rnc, take good care not to say any thing to them of
the little good you know of me. They will hate me for it all
the more. It will be a torment to them, and I have no wish to
pain them." When this amiable and lovely woman died, D'Alem
bert uttered words very similar to those which D'Orsay ad
dressed to rue on the lirst occasion of my meeting him after the
recent loss of that friend, who had so many qualities of a kin
dred nature to those of Madame Geoifrin. " Her friendship,"
said D'Alembert, " was my consolation in all troubles. The
treasure which was so necessary and precious to me has been
taken away, and in the midst of people in society, and the fill
ing up of the void of life in its circles, I can speak to none who
will understand rue. I spent my evenings with the dear friend
I have lost, and my mornings also. I no longer have that friend ;
for me there is no longer evening or morning."*

It has been truly said of Lady Blessington's uniform kindness
and generosity under all circumstances,

" In the midst of her triumphs, the goodness of her heart, and
the fine qualities that had ever distinguished her, remained
wholly unimpaired. Generous to lavishness, charitable, com
passionate, delicately considerate of the feelings of others, sin
cere, forgiving, devoted to those she loved, and with a warmth

* Memoires Lit. et Anecdotes, vol. ii., p. 64.

LITERARY CAREER OF LADY BLESSINGTON. 195

of heart rarely equaled, her change of fortune was immediately
felt by every member of her family. The parents whose cruel
obstinacy had involved her in so much misery, but whose ruined
circumstances now placed them in need of her aid, were com
fortably supported by her up to the period of their deaths. Her
brothers and sisters (the youngest of whom, Marianne, she
adopted and educated), and even the more distant of her rela
tives, all profited by her benefits, assistance, and interest."

A lady of very distinguished literary talents, and highly es
teemed by Lady Blessington, well acquainted, too, with many
of her benevolent acts, Mrs. A. M. Hall,»thus wrote of her very
recently, in answer to some inquiries of the author :

" Firfield, Addlestone, Surrey, June 7, 1854.

" I never had occasion to appeal to Lady Blessington for aid for any kind
or charitable purpose that she did not at once, with a grace peculiarly her
own, come forward cheerfully, and ' help' to the extent of her power.

" I remember one particular instance of a poor man who desired a particu
lar situation which I thought Lady Blessington could obtain. All the cir
cumstances I have forgotten ; but the chief point was, that he entreated em
ployment, and had some right to it in one department. Lady Blessington
made the request I entreated, and was refused. Her ladyship sent me the re
fusal to read, and, of course, I gave up all idea of the matter, and only felt sor
ry that I had troubled her ; but she remembered it, and in a month accom
plished the poor man's object ; her letter was indeed a sunbeam in his poor
home, and he, in time, became prosperous and happy."

In a subsequent communication of the 3d of August, Mrs.
Hall adds :

" When Lady Blessington left London, she did not forget the necessities
of several of her poor dependents, who received regular aid from her after her
arrival, and while she resided in Paris. She found time, despite her literary
labors, her anxieties, and the claims which she permitted society to make upon
her time, not only to do acts of kindness now and then for those in whom she
felt an interest, but to give what seemed perpetual thought to their well-do
ing ; and she never missed an opportunity of doing a gracious act or saying
a gracious word. My acquaintance with Lady Blessington was merely a lit
erary one, commencing when, at my husband's suggestion, she published much
about Lord Byron in the pages of the ' New Monthly Magazine,' which at
that time he edited. That acquaintance continuing till her death, I wrote
regularly for her Annuals, and she contributed to those under our care.

" I have no means of knowing whether what the world said of this beautiful
woman was true or false, but 1 am sure God intended her to be good, and

196 LITERARY CAREER OF LADY BLESSINGTON.

there was a deep-seated good intent in whatever she did that came under my
observation.

" Her sympathies were quick and cordial, and independent of worldliness ;
her taste in art and literature womanly and refined — I say ' womanly,' because
she had a perfectly feminine appreciation of whatever was delicate and beau
tiful. There was great satisfaction in writing for her whatever she required ;
labors became pleasures, from the importance she attached to every little at
tention paid to requests which, as an editor, she had a right to command.
Her manners were singularly simple and graceful ; it was to me an intense
delight to look at beauty, which, though I never saw it in its full bloom, was
charming in its autumn time ; and the Irish accent, and soft, sweet Irish
laugh, used to make my heart beat with the pleasures of memory. I always
left her with an intense sense of enjoyment, and a perfect disbelief in every
thing I ever heard to her discredit. Her conversation was not witty nor wise,
but it was in good tune and good taste, mingled with a great deal of humor,
which escaped every thing bordering on vulgarity. It was surprising how a
tale of distress or a touching anecdote would at once suffuse her clear, intel
ligent eyes with tears, and her beautiful mouth would break into smiles and
dimples at even the echo of wit or jest.

" The influence she exercised over her circle was unbounded, and it became
a pleasure of the most exquisite kind to give her pleasure.

" I think it ought to be remembered to her honor that, with all her foreign
associations and habits, she never wrote a line that might not be placed on
the book-shelves of any English lady.

"Yours sincerely, A. M. HALL."

From Mr. Hall I have received the following account of an
act of kindness and beneficence of Lady Blessington which fell
under his own observation :

" I once chanced to encounter a young man of good education and some
literary taste, who, with his wife and two children, was in a state of absolute
want. After some thought as to what had best be done for him, I suggested
a situation in the Post-office as a letter carrier. He seized at the idea, but,
being better aware than I was of the difficulty of obtaining it, expressed him
self to that eflect.

" I wrote to Lady BlcssLngton, telling her the young man's story, and ask
ing if she could get him the appointment. Next day I received a letter from
her, inclosing one from the secretary, regretting his utter inability to meet her
wishes ; such appointments, although so comparatively insignificant, resting
with the Postmaster General. I handed this communication to the young
man, who was by no means disappointed, for he had not hoped for success.
What was my surprise and his delight, however, when, the very next day,
Ihrre came to me another letter from Lady Blessington, inclosing one from

LITERARY CAREER OF LADY BLESSINGTON. 197

the Postmaster General, conferring the appointment on the young man. This
appointment I believe he still holds — at least, he did so a year or two ago.

" S. C. HALL."

Lady Blessington was quick to discover talent or worth of any
kind in others, sure to appreciate merit, and generous in her
sentiments, and ardent in the expression of approbation in re
gard to it.

She was by no means indiscriminate in her praise ; one of
the class whose judgment is to be distrusted on account of the
lavish bestowal of encomium : " Defiez vous de ces gens qui
sont a tout le monde et ne sont a personne." Nor, on the other
hand, did she belong to that most despicable of all cliques, the
sneering, depreciatory, would-be aristocratic clique of small in
tellectual celebrities in literature arid art, whose members are
niggards in acknowledgment of all worth and merit which do
not emanate from their own little circle of pretentious cleverness.

There is a sentiment of envy discoverable in the recognition
of intellectual advantages in such circles not confined to low or
vulgar people, a sense of something burdensome in the claims
to commendation of other people, which seems to oppress the
organs pulmonary, sanguineous, and cerebral of that class of
small celebrities, be they artists, authors, savans, doctors, or di
vines, or patronesses in literary society, when merit that has any
affinity with the worth supposed or self-estimated of the parties
present is brought to the notice of that clique. There is a "je
ne sais quoi" of an indisposition to let it be perceived that they
admit the existence of any ability superior to their own. The
most vulgar-minded, the least highly-gifted, are sure to be most
on their guard not to be betrayed into any terms of commenda
tion of an enthusiastic kind that might lead people to suppose
they acknowledged any excellence in others they were incapa
ble of manifesting in their own works, words, or writings.

A member of this clique, of a waspish mind and an aspish
tongue, is never more entertaining in it than when he is most
sneering in his remarks, and churlish of praise in dealing with
the intellectual advantages of other people. He is unaccustom
ed to think favorably or to speak well of his absent literary

198 LITERARY CAREER OF LADY BLESSINGTON.

neighbors. He is afraid of affording them a good word ; he
would be ashamed to be thought easily pleased with his fellow-
men — having any bookish tastes ; he can not hear them eulogized
without feeling that his own merits are overlooked. Or, if he
does chime in with any current praise, the curt commendation
and scanty applause are coupled with a sneer, a scoff, some ribald
jest, or ridiculing look or gesture, intended to depreciate or to
give a ludicrous aspect to a subject that might turn to the ad
vantage of another if it had been gravely treated. In fine, it is
not in his nature to be just or generous to any man behind his
back who has any kindred tastes or talents with his own.

The subject of this memoir was not of the clique in question,
or of their way of dealing with literary competitors in the ac
knowledgment of worth or merit in other people of literary pur
suits.

Lady Blessington was naturally lively, good-humored, mirth
ful, full of drollery, and easily amused. Her perception of the
ridiculous was quick and keen. If there was any thing absurd
in a subject or object presented to her, she was sure to seize on
it, and to represent the idea to others in the most ridiculous as
pect possible. This turn of mind was not exhibited in society
alone ; in private it was equally manifested. One of the class
proverbially given to judge severely of those they come most
closely into contact with, after a service of fifteen years, thus
speaks of the temper and disposition of her former mistress,
Lady Blessington ;

" Every one knew the cleverness of this literary lady ; but few,
very few knew all the kindness of heart of the generous, affec
tionate woman, but those who were indebted to her goodness,
and those who were constantly about her as I was — who saw
her acts, and knew her thoughts and feelings.

" My lady's spirits were naturally good ; before she was over
powered with difficulties and troubles on account of them, she
was very cheerful, droll, and particularly amusing. This was
natural to her. Her general health was usually good ; she often
told rne she had never been confined to her bed one whole day
in her life ; and her spirits would have continued good, but that

LITERARY CAREER OF LADY BLESSINGTON. 199

she got so overwhelmed with care and expenses of all kinds.
The calls on her for assistance were from all quarters. Some
depended wholly on her (and had a regular pension quarterly
paid) — her father and mother for many years before they died ;
the education of children of friends fell upon her. Now one
had to be fitted out for India — now another to be provided for.
Constant assistance had to be given to others (to the family, in
particular, of one poor lady, now dead some years, whom she
loved very dearly). She did a great many charities ; for in
stance, she gave very largely to poor literary people — poor art
ists ; something yearly to old servants ; she contributed thus
also to Miss Lander's mother — in fact, to several, too many to
mention ; and from some whom she served, to add to all her
other miseries, she met with shameful ingratitude.

" Laboring night and day at literary work, all her anxiety was
to be clear of debt. She was latterly constantly trying to cur
tail all her expenses in her own establishment, and constantly
toiling to get money. Worried and harassed at not being able
to pay bills when they were sent in — at seeing large expenses
still going on, and knowing the want of means to meet them,
she got no sleep at night. She long wished to give up Gore
House, to have a sale of her furniture, and to pay oft' her debts.
She wished this for two years before she left England ; but
when the famine in Ireland rendered the payment of her joint
ure irregular, and every succeeding year more and more so, her
difficulties increased, and at last H — — and J put an ex
ecution in the house, which proved the immediate cause of her
departure from England in 1849.

" Poor soul ! her heart was too large for her means. Oh ! the
generosity of that woman was unbounded ! I could never tell
you the number of persons she used her influence with her
friends to procure situations for — great people as well as small.
I can not withhold my knowledge of these things from you, one
of Lady Blessirigton's particular friends ; nor would I. say so
much, but knowing that her ladyship esteemed you so highly,
she would not have scrupled to have told you all that I have
done, and a great deal more."

^00 LITERARY CAREER OF LADY BLESSINGTON.

Q,ueen Catherine's language to " honest Griffith" might have
been applied by Lady Blessington to the person from whom I
have received the preceding communication :

" After my death I wish no other herald,
No other speaker of my living actions,
To keep mine honor from corruption,
But such an honest chronicler as Griffith."*

It would occupy a considerable portion of this volume were
all the charitable acts, the untiring efforts of this truly generous-
minded woman recorded, to bring her influence to bear on friends-
in exalted station in behalf of people in unfortunate circum
stances, and of persons more happily situated, yet needing her
services, seeking employment or appointments of some kind or
another for them.

There was this peculiarity, too, in the active benevolence of
Lady Blessington : whether the person for whom she interested
herself was rich or poor, of the upper or the humble class of
society, her exertions were equally strenuous and unremitting
till they were successful. I have on many occasions seen her,
after receiving a letter from some important personage in Par
liament, or perhaps some friend of hers in power, intimating the
inability of the party to render the service required by her for
a protege of hers, when, for a few moments, she would seem
greatly disappointed and discouraged. Then there would be a
little explosion of anger on account of the refusal or non-com
pliance with her application.

But this was invariably followed by a brightening up of her
looks, a little additional vehemence of tone and gesture, but ac
companied with some gleams of returning good-humor and gay-
ety of manner, mingled at the same time with an air of resolu
tion ; and then throwing herself back in her fautcuil, and plant
ing her foot rather firmly on the footstool, still holding the letter
that annoyed her rolled up tightly, and apparently grasped some
what energetically, she would declare her firm determination, in
spite of the refusal she had met with, that her application should
be successful in some other quarter. The poor person's friends
* Henry the Eighth, Act iv., Sc. 2.

LITERARY CAREER OF LADY BLESSINGTON. 201

or family were counting on her efforts, and they should not be
disappointed.

The subject from that time would be uppermost in her mind,
whoever the people were who were about her. But when any
influential person entered the salon, many minutes would not
elapse before he would be put in possession of all the worth of
the individual to be served, and all the wants of the poor family
dependent on him ; and this would be done with such genuine
eloquence of feelings strongly excited, finding expression in glow
ing words, spoken with such pathos, and in accents of such sweet
ness, that an impression was generally sure to be made, and the
subject in view was either directly or indirectly; .promoted or at
tained.

The embarrassments of Lady Blessington for some years be
fore her departure from England had made her life a continual
struggle with pecuniary difficulties, which, for the maintenance
of her position, it was necessary to conceal, and to make a per
petual study of concealing. The cares, anxiety, and secret sor
rows of such a situation it is easier to conceive than to describe.
Suffice it to say, they served to embitter her career, and, latterly,
to give a turn to her thoughts in relation to society, and a taste
for the writings of those who have dealt with its follies, as phi
losophers, without faith in God or man, which tended by no
means to her peace of mind, though she attached great import
ance to that sort of worldly wisdom which teaches us how to lay
bare the heart of man, but leaves us in utter ignorance of all
things appertaining to his immortal spirit.

It is in vain to seek, in the worldly wisdom of Rochefoucault,
for remedies for the wear and tear of literary life ; the weari
ness of mind, the depression of physical energies, occasioned by
long-continued literary labors, and the anxieties, cares, and con
tentions of authorship. The depression of spirits consequent on
disappointments in the struggle for distinction, the sinking of
the heart at the failure of arduous efforts to obtain success, the
blankness of life's aim after the cooling down of early enthu-
siam — for these ills, the remedies that will soothe the sick at
heart are not to be found in the philosophy of moralists who

12

202 LITERARY CAREER OF LADY BLESSINGTON.

are materialists professing Christianity. There is a small book
ascribed to a religious-minded man, named Thomas a Kempis,
which, in all probability, Lady Blessington never saw, in which
there are germs of greater thoughts, and fraught with more con
soling influences, than are to be discovered in the writings of
Rochefoucault or Montaigne, and from which better comfort and
more abundant consolation are to be derived than from any of
their most successful efforts in laying bare the surface and sound
ing the depths of the selfishness of the human heart.

Rochefoucault deems selfishness the primum mobile of all hu
mane and generous actions. Humanity, in the opinion of this
philosopher, is like physic in the practice of empirics. They ad
mit of no idiosyncrasies ; no controlling influence in nature ; no
varieties of character determined by temperament, fortuitous cir
cumstances, external impressions, alteration or diversity of or
ganization. Yet the knowledge of human nature is a science
to which no general rules can be applied. There is no certainty
in regard to the law that is laid down for its government, no
uniformity of action arising from its operation, no equality of
intellect, passion, disposition, in individuals, to make its general
application just or possible.

But, granting that all men feel only for the distresses of others
from selfish motives — from a sense of the pain they would feel
if they suffered like those with whom they spmpathize — still
their sympathy with misfortune or misery is beneficial to others
and themselves.*

* In a discussion on the subject of "the selfishness of the motives of benevo
lent actions," the following anecdote was related, in opposition to the advocates
of the theory of Rochefoucault :

" A poor woman, with three children, dressed in black, was observed in Regent
Street, standing at the edge of the flags, not asking, but silently standing there,
for alms. A lady in deep mourning (widow's weeds), of the middle class, a
coarse, hard-featured, and even unfeminine-looking person, passed on ; but after
she had gone nearly to the end of the street, she turned back, took out her purse,
and, with some evident appearances of feeling, gave money to the poor woman.
There can be little doubt but that the black gown of the pauper had reminded the
passenger in widow's weeds of her bereavement, and made her feel for one, in all
probability, deprived like herself of a husband. But, however much of feelings
of self, and for self, might enter into her emotions, there was sympathy shown
with the sorrows of another that were like her own. And what mattered it to the

LITERARY CAREER OF LADY BLESSINGTON. 203

It is exceedingly painful to observe the undue importance that
Lady Blessington attached to the writings of Rochefoucault, and
the grievous error she fell into of regarding them as fountains
of truth and wisdom — of deep philosophy, which were to be re
sorted to with advantage on all occasions necessitating reflection
and inquiry. Satiated with luxuries, weary with the eternal
round of visits and receptions, and entertainments of intellectual
celebrities, fatigued and worn out with the frivolous pursuits of
fashionable literary life, and fully sensible of the worthlessness
of the blandishments of society and the splendor of its salons,
she stood in need of some higher philosophy than ever emanated
from mere worldly wisdom.

Literature and art have their victims as well as their votaries,
and those who cater for the enjoyments of their society, and
aspire to the honor (ever dearly purchased by women) of reign
ing over it, must count on many sacrifices, and expect to have
to deal with a world of importunate pretensions, of small ambi
tions, of large exigencies, of unbounded vanity, of unceasing flat
teries, of many attachments, and of few friendships.

The sick at heart and stricken in spirit, the weary and the
palled in this society, have need of other philosophy than that
which the works of Rochefoucault can supply. The dreariness
of mind of those jaded intellectual celebrities is manifest enough
to the observant ; in their works and in their conversation, even
when they appear in the midst of the highest enjoyments, with
bright thoughts flashing from their eyes, with laughter on their
lips, and with sallies of wit, sarcasm, or drollery coming from
their tongues.

It has been observed of Rochefoucault by a French writer,
Monsieur de Sacy, in a review of that author's works :

" His moral has every thing in it that can humble and depress
the heart of man, that is to be found in the rigorous doctrine of
the Gospel, with the exception of that which exalts man's ria-

poor woman, who was relieved by her, how that sympathy was associated ? and
to herself, was it of no advantage to be reminded of being subject to the same sor
rows as the beggar in her tattered weeds, with her fatherless children beside her
in the street ?"

204 LITERARY CAREER OF LADY BLESSINGTON.

ture and uplifts his spirit. It is the destruction of all the illu
sions, without the hopes which should replace them. Roche-
foucault, in a word, has only taken from Christianity the fall of
man ; he left there the dogma of the Redemption .
Rochefoucault believes no more in piety than he does in wis
dom ; no more in God than he does in man. A penitent is not
more absurd in his eyes than a philosopher. Every where pride
— every where self, under the hair shirt of the monk of La
Trappe, as well as under the mantle of the cynic philosopher.
Rochefoucault permits himself to be a Christian only in order
to pursue the emotions of the heart into their last intrenchments.
He condescends to seem to be a Christian only to poison our
joys, and cast a deadly shade on the most cherished illusions of
life's dreams. What remains for man then? For those reso
lute minds, there remains nothing but a cold and daring con
tempt of all things human and divine — an arid and stoical con
tentment in confronting — annihilation: for others differently
constituted, there remains despair or abandonment to the enjoy
ment of brutalizing pleasures as the only aim and ultimate ob
ject of life."

There remains for women of cultivated minds and of eleva
ted notions of a literary kind — women who are the disciples of
Rochefoucault — a middle course to pursue, which Monsieur de
Sacy has not noticed ; and that course is to shine in the society
of intellectual people. The pursuit, indeed, is a soul-wearying
one, but there is a kind of glory in it that dazzles people, and
makes them exceedingly eager for it.

Those to whom amusement becomes a business, the art of
pleasing a drudgery that is daily to be performed, pass from the
excitement of society, its labors and its toils, into the retire
ment and privacy of domestic life, in exhaustion, languor, irk-
somcncss, and crinui ; and from this state they are roused to
new efforts in the salons by a craving appetite for notice and for
praise.

" Their breath is admiration, and their life
A storm whereon they ride."

Lady Blessington had that fatal jjift of pre-eminent attractive-

LITERARY CAREER OF LADY BLESSINGTON. 205

ness in society which has rendered so many clever women dis
tinguished and unhappy. The power of pleasing people indis
criminately, in large circles, is never long exercised by women
with advantage to the feminine character of their fascinations.

The facility of making one's self so universally agreeable in
literary salons as to be there "the observed of all observers/'
"the admired of all admirers," "the pink and rose" of the fair
state — of literature, a la mode, " the glass of fashion and the
mould of form," becomes in time fatal to naturalness of charac
ter, singleness and sincerity of mind. Friendship that becomes
so diffusive as to admit of as many ties as there are claims of
literary talents to notice in society, and to be considered avail
able for all intimacies with remarkable persons and relations
with intellectual celebrities, must be kept up by constant admin
istrations of cordial professions of kindness and affection, epis
tolary and conversational, and frequent interchange of compli
ments and encomiums, that tend to invigorate sentiments of re
gard that would fade away without such restoratives. " On ne
loue d 'ordinaire que pour etre loue." The praiser and the praised
have a nervous apprehension of depreciation ; and those who
live before the public in literature or society get not unfre-
quently into the habit of lavishing eulogies, less with reference
to the deserts of those who are commended than with a view to
the object to be gained by flattery, namely, the payment in its
own coin, and with good interest, of the adulation that has been
bestowed on others.

Lady Blessington exercised the double influence of beauty
and intellectuality in society, in attracting attention, to win ad
miration, and to gain dominion over admirers.

In effecting this object, it was the triumph of her heart to ren
der all around not only pleased with her, but pleased with
themselves. She lived, in fact, for distinction on the stage of
literary society before the foot-lights, and always en scene. Lady
Blessington was very conscious of possessing the hearts of her
audience. She had become accustomed to an atmosphere of
adulation, and the plaudits of those friends, which were never
out of her ears, at last became a necessity to her. Her abode

206 LITERARY CAREER OF LADY BLESSINGTON.

was a temple, and she the Minerva of the shrine, whom all the
votaries of literature and art worshiped.

The swinging of the censer before her fair face never ceased
in those salons, and soft accents of homage to her beauty and
her talents seldom failed to be whispered in her ear, while she
sat enthroned in that well-known fauteuil of hers, holding high
court in queen-like state — " the most gorgeous Lady Blessing-
ton."* The desire for this sort of distinction of a beautiful wom
an bookishly given — in other words, " the coqucttcrie d'un dame
des salons litteraircs" — in many respects is similar to that com
mon sort of female ambition, of gaining the admiration of many
without any design of forming an attachment for one, which
Madam de Genlis characterizes, "Ce quo Ics hommes mepriscnt et
qul les attire."

But, in one respect, the intellectual species of coquetry is of
a higher order than the other ; it makes the power of beauty,
of fascination, of pleasing manners, auxiliary only to the influ
ence of intellect, and seeks for conquests over the mind, even
while it aims at gaining an ascendency over the feelings of the
heart. The chief aim of it, however, is to achieve triumphs
over all within its circle, and for this end, the lady ambitious
of reigning in literary society must live to be courted, admired,
homaged by its celebrities. The queen-regnant in its salons
must at length cease to confide in the natural gifts and graces
which belong to her — the original simplicity of her character or
sweetness of her disposition. She must become an actress
there, she must adapt her manners, fashion her ideas, accommo
date her conversation to the taste, tone of thought, and turn of
mind of every individual around her.

She must be perpetually demonstrating her own attractions
or attainments, or calling forth any peculiarities in others calcu
lated to draw momentary attention to them. She must become
a slave to the caprices, envious feelings, contentions, rivalries,
selfish aims, ignoble sacrifices, and exigcants pretensions of lite-

* Dr. Parr was introduced to Lady Blessington by Mr. Pettigrew, and shortly
after that introduction, the doctor, writing to Mr. Pettigrew, spoke of her ladyship
rgeous Lady Blessington."

111*11. jiuruuucuon, me uocior, willing i<
'the most gorgeous Lady Blessington."

LITERARY CAREER OF LADY BLESSINGTON. 207

rati, artists, and all the notabilities of fashionable circles, les
amis des hommes des lettres, ou les amants imaginaires des dames
d 'esprit.

In a word, she must part with all that is calculated to make
a woman in this world happy — peace of mind, the society of
true friends, and pursuits which tend to make women loved and
cherished ; the language of sincerity, the simplicity and endear
ing satisfaction of home enjoyments. And what does she gain
when she has parted with all these advantages, and has attain
ed the summit of her ambition ? a name in the world of fash
ion, some distinction in literary circles, homage and admiration
so long as prosperity endures, and while means are to be found
for keeping up the splendor of a vast establishment and its
brilliant circles.

And when the end of all the illusion of this state of splendid
misery comes at last, the poor lady who has lived in it so long
awakens from it as from a dream, and the long delirium of it
becomes manifest to her. She has thrown away fortune, time,
and talents in obtaining distinction, in surrounding herself with
clever people, in patronising and entertaining artists and lite
rati. She has sacrificed health and spirits in this pursuit. Her
establishment is broken up — nothing remains to her of all its
treasures ; she has to fly to another country, and, after a few
weeks, she is suddenly carried off, leaving some persons that
knew her well and long to lament that one so generous, kindly
disposed, naturally amiable and noble-minded, so highly gifted,
clever, and talented, should have been so unhappily circum
stanced in early life and in more advanced years, as well as at
the close of her existence, and that she should have been placed
so long in a false position ; in a few words, that the whole
course of her life should have been infelicitous.

The wear and tear of literary life leave very unmistakable
evidence of their operation on the traits, thoughts, and energies
of bookish people. Like the eternal rolling of the stone of Sis
yphus, the fruitless toiling up the hill, and the conscious failure
of each attempt on coming down, are the ceaseless struggles
for eminence of authors, artists, and those who would be sur-

208 LITERARY CAREER OF LADY BLESSINGTON.

rounded by them in society as their patrons or influential ad
mirers, and would obtain their homage for so being.

Like those unceasing tantalizing efforts on which the ener
gies of Sisyphus were expended in vain, are the tiring pursuits
of the literati, treading on the heels of one another day after
day, tugging with unremitting toil at one uniform task — to ob
tain notoriety, to overcome competition, to supplant others in
public favor, and, having met with some success, to maintain a
position at any cost, with the eminence of which perhaps some
freak of fortune may have had more to do than any intrinsic
worth or superior merit of their own. And then they must
end the labors which have consumed their health and strength
without any solid advantage in the way of an addition to their
happiness, a security to their peace of mind, or a conviction that
those labors have tended materially to the real good of mankind,
and thereby to the glory of God, and of His cause on earth,
namely, the promotion of the interests of truth, justice, and hu
manity.

In no spirit of unkindness toward the memory of Lady Bless-
ington, in no cynical mood, or momentary forgetfulness even,
of the many estimable qualities and excellent talents which she
possessed, let us ask, did her literary career, and position in lit
erary society, secure for her any of those advantages which have
been just referred to, or was that position attended with any sol
id benefits to those high interests which transcend all others in
this world in importance ?

Or, apart from her literary career, if the question be asked,
"Was her life happy ? assuredly the answer must be, It was not
happy.

In the height of her success, in the most brilliant period of her
London life, in St. James's Square, in Seamorc Place, in Gore
House, in the midst of the luxuries by which she was surround
ed, even at the period of her fewest cares — in Italy and France
— the present enjoyments were never unaccompanied with reminis
cences of the past that were painful.

But who could imagine that such was the case who knew
her only in crowded salons, so apparently joyous, animated, and

LITERARY CAREER OF LADY BLESSINGTON. 209

exhilarated by the smiling looks and soft accents of those who
paid such flattering homage to her beauty and her talent, fully
conscious as she was of the admiration she excited, and so ac
customed to it that it seemed to have become essential to her
being ?

Ample evidence is to be found in the detached thoughts of
Lady Blessington, scattered through her papers or among those
records of reflection to which she gave the appropriate name of
"Night Thought Books." The following extracts from them
may serve to show the truth of the preceding observation.

WRONGS AND WOES OF WOMEN.

" Men can pity the wrongs inflicted by other men on the gen
tler sex, but never those which they themselves inflict (on wom
en)."

" duelle destinee que cette de la femme ! A 1'etre le plus foi
ble le plus entoure des seductions, le plus mal eleve, pour les
resister, les juges les plus severes, les peines les plus dures la
vengeance la plus inflexible, duand le ciel chasse de son Pa-
radis notre pere et notre mere coupables, la glaive de 1'ange les
frappa tous deux : pour tous deux son feu impitoyable brula de-
vant la porte du lien des delices, sans que la femme fut plus
puni, plus malheureux que 1'homme. Si elle eut les douleurs
de la maternite, son compagnon d'infortune eut les sueurs du
travail et les horribles angoisses qui accompagnent le spectacle
des souflrances de celle qu'on aime. II n'y eut point entre eux
un inegal partage de punition, et Adam ne put pas a 1'exclusion
d'Eve rentrer dans ce jardin qui lui fermait la colere du ciel!
Hommes vous vous etes faits pour nous plus inflexible que Dieu,
et quand nous sommes tombees par vous, a cause de vous, pour
nous seules brille 1'epee qui met hors du monde, hors de 1'hon-
neur, hors de 1'estime, et qui nous empeche a jamais d'y ren
trer." ! ! ! — Brissct.

" The whole system of female education is to teach women to
allure and not to repel, yet how much more essential is the lat
ter r

" England is the only country in Europe where the loss of

210 LITERARY CAREER OF LADY BLESSINGTON.

one's virtue superinduces the loss of all. I refer to chastity.
A woman known to have violated this virtue, though she pos
sess all the other virtues, is driven with ignominy from society
into a solitude rendered insupportable by a sense of the injus
tice by which she is made a victim to solitude, which often be
comes the grave of the virtues she brought to it."

" Passion ! Possession ! Indifference ! What a history is com
prised in these three words ! What hopes and fears succeeded
by a felicity as brief as intoxicating — followed in its turn by the
old consequence of possession — indifference ! What burning
tears, what bitter pangs, rending the very heart-strings — what
sleepless nights and watchful days form part of this cvery-day
story of life, whose termination leaves the actors to search again
for new illusions to finish like the last !"

" A woman who exposes, even to a friend, her domestic un-
happiness, has violated the sanctity of home and the delicacy of
affection, and placed an enduring obstacle to the restoration of
interrupted domestic peace and happiness."

" The youth of women is entitled to the affectionate interest
of the aged of their own sex."

" Women who have reached old age should look with affec
tionate interest on those of their own sex who are still travel
ing the road scattered with flowers and thorns over which they
have already passed themselves, as wanderers who have jour
neyed on through many dangers should regard those who are
still toiling over the same route."

BEAUTY WITHOUT THE SECURITY OF FIXED PRINCIPLE.

"A beautiful woman without fixed principles may be likened
to those fair but rootless flowers which float in streams, driven
by every breeze."

" Whenever we make a false step in life, we take more pains
to justify it than would have saved us from its commission, and
yet we never succeed in convincing others — nay, more, ourselves
— that we have acted rightly."

"The happiness of a woman is lost forever when her hus
band ceases to be its faithful guardian. To whom else can she

LITERARY CAREER OF LADY BLESSJNGTON. 211

confide the treasure of her peace who will not betray the trust ?
and it is so precious, that, unless carefully guarded, it is soon
lost."

" Love-matches are made by people who are content, for a
month of honey, to condemn themselves to a life of vinegar."

" There are some chagrins of the heart which a friend ought
to try to console without betraying a knowledge of their exist
ence, as there are physical maladies which a physician ought
to seek to heal without letting the sufferer know that he has
discovered their extent."

" In some women modesty has been known to survive chas
tity, and in others chastity to survive modesty. The last exam
ple is the most injurious to the interests of society, because they
who believe, while they preserve chastity inviolate, that they
may throw aside the feminine reserve and delicacy which ought
to be its outward sign and token, give cause for suspicions, and
offend the purity of others of their sex with whom they are
brought in contact much more than those who, failing in chas
tity, preserve its decency and decorum."

" The want of chastity is a crime against one's self, but the
want of modesty is a crime against society."

" A chaste woman may yield to the passion of her lover, but
an unchaste woman gives way to her own."*

Lines on various subjects, from the " Night Thought Book"
of Lady Blessington :

NIGHT.

1.

" Yes, night ! I love thy silence and thy calm,
That o'er my spirits shed a soothing balm,
Lifting my soul to brighter, purer spheres,
Far, far removed from this dark vale of tears.

2.

" There is a holiness, a blessed peace
In thy repose, that bids our sorrow cease ;
That stills the passions in the hallowed breast,
And lulls the tortured feelings into rest."

* Some of the sentiments expressed in these observations I do not think true
or just, in a moral or religious point of view. — R. R. M.

'212 LITERARY CAREER OF LADY BLESSINGTON.

FLOWERS.

" Flowers are the bright remembrances of youth ;
They waft back, with their bland and odorous breath,
The joyous hours that only young life knows,
Ere we have learned that this fair earth hides graves.
They bring the check that's mouldering in the dust
Again before us, tinged with health's own rose ;
They bring the voices we shall hear no more,
Whose tones were sweetest music to our ears ;
They bring the hopes that faded one by one,
Till naught was left to light our path but faith,
That we, too, like the flowers, should spring to life,
But not, like them, again e'er fade or die."

Lines of Lady Blessington, unfinished, written on the back of
a letter of Lord Durham, very much injured and defaced, dated
July 28,1837:

" At midnight's silent hour, when hushed in sleep,

They who have labored or have sorrowed lie,

Learning from slumber how 'tis sweet to die,

I love my vigils of the heart to keep ;

For then fond memory unlocks her store,

"Which in the garish noisy

Then comes reflection, musing on the lore

And precepts of pure, mild philosophy.

Sweet voices — silent now,

Bless my charmed car ; sweet smiles are seen,

Though they who wore them long now dwell on high,

Where I shall meet them, but with chastened mien,

To tell how dull was life where they were not,

And that they never, never were forgot."

Unfinished lines in pencil, with numerous corrections and al
terations, in the hand-writing of Lady Blessington, apparently of
a recent date :

" And years, long, weary years have rolled away,
Since youth with all its sunny smiles has fled,
And hope within this saddened breast is dead,
To gloomy doubts and dark despair a prey,
Turning from pleasure's flow'ry path astray,
To haunts where melancholy thoughts are bred,
And meditation broods with inward dread
Amid the shades of pensive twilight gray.

LITERARY CAREER OF LADY BLESSINGTON. 213

Yet has this heart not ceased to thrill with pain,
Though joy can make its pulses beat no more ;
Its wish to reach indifference is vain,
And will be, till life's fitful fever's o'er,
'And it has reached the dim and silent shore,
Where sorrow it shall never know again.
Like to a stream whose current's frozen o'er,
Yet still flows on beneath its icy "

* * -X- * *

On the same sheet of paper as that on which the preceding
lines are written, there are the following fragments of verse,
evidently composed in the same thoughtful rnood as the previous
lines of a retrospective character :

" But though the lily-root in earth

Lies an unsightly thing,
Yet thence the flow'ret had its birth,

And into light will spring.
So when this form is in the dust,*

Of mortals all, the lot,
Oh, may my soul its prison burst,

Its errors all forgot !"

Other lines unfinished, in a MS. book of Lady Blessington, in
her ladyship's hand-writing :

" The smile that plays around the lips

When sorrow preys upon our hearts,
Is like the flowers with which we deck

The youthful corpse ere it departs
Forever to the silent grave,
From those who would have died to save."

A fragment in penciling, in another commonplace book of
kady Blessington, in her ladyship's hand-writing, but no date or
signature :

" Pardon, 0 Lord ! if this too sinful heart,

Ingrate to thee, did for a mortal feel
Love all too pure for earth to have a part.

Pardon — for lowly at thy feet I kneel :
Bowed to the dust, my heart, like a crushed flower,

Yields all remaining sweetness at thy shrine.

* A liiif has here been erased

214 NOTICES OF THE WRITINGS OF LADY BLESSINGTON.

Thou only, Lord of mercy, now hath power

To bid repose and hope again be mine.
Chase from this fond and too long tortured breast

Thoughts that intrude to steal my soul from thee ;
Aid me within a cloister to find rest,

When I from sin and passion shall be free."

No one who ever knew Lady Blessington, and perhaps few
persons who may chance to read these pages, would refuse to
say " Amen" to that sweet prayer.

CHAPTER XI.

NOTICES OF THE WRITINGS OF LADY BLESSINGTON, ETC.

IT would be absurd to lay claim for Lady Blessington to the
great attributes of first-rate intellectual powers, creative and in
ventive, namely, concentrativeness, originality, vigor, and ele
vation of mind, genius of the highest order, combining intensity
of thought, strength of imagination, depth of feeling, combina
tive talents, and mastery of intellect in delineation and descrip
tion ; excellence, in short, in literature, that serves to give a vivid
look and life-like appearance to every thing it paints in words.

It would be a folly to seek in the mental gifts and graces of
Lady Blessington for evidences of the divine inspirations of ex
alted genius, endowed with all its instincts and ideality, favored
with bright visions of the upper regions of poetry and fiction,
with glimpses of ethereal realms, peopled with shadowy forms
and spiritualized beings, with glorious attributes and perfec
tions, or to imagine we are to discover in her keen perception
of the ridiculous the excellent in art, literature, or conversation,
or in her ideas of the marvelous or admirable in striking effects,
sublime conceptions of the grand, the beautiful, the chivalrous,
or supernatural. The power of realization of great ideas, with
out encumbering the representation of ideal objects with mate
rial images and earthly associations, belongs only to genius of
the first order, and between it and graceful talent, fine taste,
shrewdness of mind, and quickness of apprehension, there are
many degrees of intellectual excellence.

NOTICES OF THE WRITINGS OF LADY BLESSINGTON. 215

It is very questionable if any of the works of Lady Blessing-
ton, with the exception of the " Conversations with Lord By
ron," and perhaps the " Idler in Italy," will maintain a perma
nent position in English miscellaneous literature. The interest
taken in the writer was the main source of the temporary inter
est that was felt in her literary performances.

The master-thinker of the last century has truly observed :
" An author bustling in the world, showing himself in public,
and emerging occasionally, from time to time, into notice, might
keep his works alive by his personal influence ; but that which
conveys little information, and gives no great pleasure, must soon
give way, as the succession of things produces new topics of
conversation, and other modes of amusement."*

Lady Blessington commenced her career of authorship in 1822.
Her first work, entitled " The Magic Lantern ; or, Sketches of
Scenes in the Metropolis," was published by Longman in that
year, in one volume 8vo.

The work was written evidently by one wholly inexperienced
in the ways of authorship. There were obvious marks in it,
however, of cleverness, quickness of perception, shrewdness of
observation, and of kindly feelings, though occasionally sarcastic
tendencies prevailed over them. There were evidences in that
production, moreover, of a natural turn for humor and drollery,
strong sensibility also, and some graphic powers of description
in her accounts of affecting incidents.

The sketches in the " Magic Lantern" arc the Auction, the
Park, the Tomb, the Italian Opera.

A second edition of the " Magic Lantern" was published soon
after the first. There is a draught of a preface, in her lady
ship's hand-writing, intended for this edition, among her papers,
with the following lines :

" If some my Magic Lantern should offend,
The fault's not mine, for scandal's not my end ;
'Tis vice and folly that I hold in view :
Your friends, not I, find likenesses to you."

It is very questionable if more indications of talent are not to
* Dr. Johnson. Life of Mallet.

216 NOTICES OF THE WRITINGS OF LADY BLESSINGTON.

be found in the first work written by Lady Blessington, " The
Magic Lantern," than in the next production, or, indeed, in any
succeeding performance of hers, though she looked so unfavor
ably on " The Magic Lantern" in her later years as seldom or
never to make any reference to it.

" Sketches and Fragments," the second work by Lady Bless
ington, was also published by Longman in 1822, in one small
12mo volume. The preface to it is dated June 12, 1822. The
contents of this volume are the following :

Blighted Hopes, Marriage, the Ring, Journal of a Week of a
Lady of Fashion, an Allegory, Fastidiousness of Taste, Coquet
ry, Egotism, Reflections, Sensibility, Friendship, "Wentworth
Fragments.

In the " Sketches and Fragments," Lady Blessington began to
be somewhat affected and conventional, to assume a character
of strait-laced propriety and purism, that made it incumbent on
her to restrain her natural thoughts and feelings, and to adopt
certain formulas expressive of very exalted sentiments, and of a
high sense of the duties she had imposed on herself as a censor
of society — its manners, morals, and all .externals affecting the
decorum of its character. The fact is, Lady Blessington was
never less effective in her writings than when she ceased to be
natural. And with respect to her second production, though in
point of style and skill in composition it was an improvement
on her former work, in other respects it was hardly equal to it.

Lady Blessington received no remuneration from cither of the
works just mentioned. From the produce of the sale of the sec
ond production, after defraying all the expenses of publication,
there was a small sum of £20 or JC30 available, which was ap
plied, by her ladyship's directions, to a charitable purpose.

The necessity of augmenting her income by turning her lit
erary talents to a profitable account brought Lady Blessington
before the public as a writer of fashionable novels. The pecul
iar talent she exhibited in this style of composition was in lively
descriptions of persons in high life, in some respect or other
rmtre or ridiculous, in a vein of quiet humor, which ran through
out her writings — a common-sense, and generally an amiable

NOTICES OF THE WRITINGS OF LADY BLESSINGTON. 217

way of viewing most subjects ; a pleasant mode of effecting an
entente cordiale with her readers, an air of good-nature in her
observations, and an apparent absence of malice or malignity in
the smart sayings, sharp and satirical, which she delighted in
giving utterance to.

The great defect of her novels was want of creative power,
and constructive skill in devising a plot, arid carrying on any
regularly planned action from the beginning of a work to its
close, and making the denouement the result that ought to be ex
pected from the incidents of the story throughout its progress.

The characters of her mere men of fashion are generally well
drawn. Many of her sketches of scenes (in one of the French
acceptations of the word) in society, not of scenes in nature, are
admirably drawn.

Lady Blessington, in novel-writing, discarded the services of
" gorgons, hydras, and chimsBras dire." She had no taste for
horrors of that kind ; and if she had ventured into the delinea
tion of them, the materiel of her imagination would riot have en
abled her to deal with them successfully.

The characters of her women are generally naturally deline
ated, except when in waging war with the follies or vices of
fashionable society. She portrayed its female members in col
ors rather too dark to be true to nature, or even just to her own
sex. But she always professed to have a great dislike to works
of fiction in which humanity was depicted in a revolting aspect,
and individuals were represented without any redeeming trait
in their characters. We firrd in several of her novels, in the
character of the personages, a mixture of good and evil, and
seldom, except in " the Victims of Society," evidence of unmit
igated, unredeemable baseness and villainy in the character of
any person she writes of. Books that give pain, and are disa
greeable to think of after they had been read, she had a strong
objection to. One of her literary correspondents in 1845, writ
ing to her, referring to a recent work which gave a painful and
disagreeable portraiture of several characters, said, " It is a sin
against art, which is designed to please even in the terrors which
it evokes. But the highest artists — -Sophocles, Shakspeare, and

VOL. T.— K

218 NOTICES OF THE WRITINGS OF LADY BLESSINGTON.

Goethe — have departed from that rule on certain occasions and
for certain ends. I should have compromised with the guilt
depicted if I had abated the pain the contemplation of such
guilt should occasion. It is in showing by what process the
three orders of mind, which, rightly trained and regulated, pro
duce the fairest results of humanity, may be depraved to its
scourge and pestilence, that I have sought the analysis of
truths which, sooner or later, will vindicate their own moral

utilities. The calculating intellect of I) , which should

have explored science; the sensual luxuriance and versatility

of Y , which should have enriched art ; the conjunction of

earnest passion with masculine understanding in L , which

should have triumphed for good and high ends in active prac
tical life, are all hurled down into the same abyss of irretriev
able guilt, from want of the one supporting principle — broth
erhood and sympathy with others. They are incarnations of
egotism pushed to the extreme. And I suspect those most
indignant at the exposition are those who have been startled
with the likeness of their own hearts. They may not have the
guilt of the hateful three, but they wince from the lesson that
guilt inculcates. The earnestness of the author's own views
can alone console him in the indiscriminate and lavish abuse,
with all its foul misrepresentations, which greets his return to
literature, and, unless he is greatly mistaken, the true moral of
his book will be yet recognized, though the vindication may
be deferred till it can only be rendered to dust — a stone and
a name."

In 1832, in " Colburn's New Monthly Magazine," Lady Bless-
ington's " Journal of Conversations with Lord Byron" made its
first appearance. The Journal contains matter certainly of the
highest and most varied interest, and would convey as just an
account of Byron's character, and as unexaggerated a sketch as
any that has been ever published, if some secret feeling of
pique arid sense of annoyance were not felt by her, and had not
stolen into her " Conversations."

The "Journal" was published in one vol. 8vo, a little later,
and had a very extensive sale.

NOTICES OF THE WRITINGS OF LADY BLESSINGTON. 219

"Grace Cassidy, or the Repealers," a novel in 3 vols., was
published by Bentley in 1833.

From all Irish political novels, including " The Repealers,"
the English public may pray most earnestly to be delivered.*

" Meredyth," a novel in 3 vols., was published by Longman,
1833.

In October, 1833, Mr. "William Longman wrote to Lady Bless-
ington, stating that " Meredyth" had not hitherto had the suc
cess that had been anticipated. £45 had been spent in ad
vertising, and only 380 copies sold, 300 of which had been sub
scribed.

* KEY TO THE REPEALERS.

(WRITTEN IN 1833.)

Duchess of Heaviland — Duchess of Northumberland.

Marchioness of Bowood — Marchioness of Lansdowne

Countess of Grandison — Countess of Grantham.

Lord Albany — Lord Alvanley.

Lord Elsinore — Lady Tullamore.

Lady Rodney — Lady Sidney.

Duke of Lismore — Duke of Devonshire.

Mrs. Grantley — Mrs. Norton.

Countess of Guernsey — Countess of Jersey.

Lord Rey — Earl Grey.

Marchioness of Stewartville — Marchioness of Londonderry.

Lord Montague — Lord Rokeby.

Duchess of Lennox — Duchess of Richmond.

Marchioness of Burton — Marchioness of Conyngham.

Marquess of Mona — Marquess of Anglesey.

Lady Augusta Jaring — Lady Augusta Baring.

Marchioness of Glanricarde — Marchioness of Clanricarde.

Lady E. Hart Burtley— Lady E. S. Wortley.

Lady Yesterfield — Lady Chesterfield.

Mrs. Pranson — Hon. Mrs. Anson.

Lady Lacre — Lady Dacre.

Lady Noreley — Lady Moreley.

Mr. Manly — Mr. Stanley.

Sir Robert Neil— Sir Robert Peel.

Mr. Hutter Serguson — Mr. Cutlar Ferguson.

Mr. Enice— Mr. Edward Ellice.

Mr. Theil— Mr. R. L. Sheil.

Lord Refton — Lord Sefton.

Lady Castlemont — Lady Charlemont.

Lord Loath — Lord Meath.

Duke and Duchess of Cartdun — Duko and Duchess cf Leinster,

220

NOTICES OF THE WRITINGS OF LADY BLESSINGTON.

" The Follies of Fashion, or the Beau Monde of London in
1835" — a sketch by Lady Blessington, appeared in one of the
periodicals of the time.

" The Belle of the Season," a much later production, was a
lively sketch of an episode in fashionable society.

" The Two Friends," a novel in 3 vols., was published by
Saunders and Ottley in 1835.

" The Victims of Society," a novel in 3 vols., Saunders and
Ottley, published in 1837. If the delineation of high life given
in this work be correct, the experience which qualified the au
thor to produce such a performance was very terrible. If it be
not true, the wholesale pulling-down process, the utter demoli
tion of the reputation of people in fashionable society, of wom
en as well as men, in this work, is much to be regretted.

" The Confessions of an Elderly Lady," in one vol., Longman,
1838.

"The Governess," a novel in 3 vols., Longman, 1839.

" Desultory Thoughts and Reflections," in one thin 16mo vol.,
appeared in 1839, published by Longman.

" The Idler in Italy" was published in 2 vols. 8vo, Colburn, in
1839 ; the most successful and interesting of all the works of
Lady Blessington.

" The Idler in France" appeared in 2 vols. 8vo, Longman, in
1841.

" The Lottery of Life, and other Tales," in 3 vols., appeared
in 1842.

" Strathcrn, or Life at Home and Abroad," a story of the pres
ent day. This novel appeared first in " The Sunday Times ;;'
afterward it was published by Colburn, in 1845, in 4 vols. Be
tween the two publications, Lady Blessington is said to have
realized nearly £600. It Avas the most read of all her novels,
as she imagined ; yet the publisher, in a letter to Lady Bless
ington, several months after publishing, complained that he only
sold 400 copies, and had lost X'40 by the publication, and that
he must decline a new work proposed by her. In this work,
the writer drew, as in her other novels, her illustrations of so
ciety frum her own times ; and her opportunities of studying

NOTICES OF THE WRITINGS OF LADY BLESSINGTON. 221

human nature in a great variety of its phases, but particularly
in what is called "the fashionable world," afforded her ample
means of giving faithful portraitures of its society. These por
traitures in •' Strathern" are graphic, vivid, and not without a
dash of humor and sarcastic drollery in her delineation of fash
ionable life at home and abroad. But the representation is cer
tainly not only exceedingly unfavorable to the class she puts en
scene in Rome, Naples, Paris, and London, but very unpleasing
on the whole, though often amusing, and sometimes instructive.

In " The Memoirs of a Femme de Chambre," a novel in 3 vols.,
published by Colburn and Bentley in 1846, Lady Blessington
availed herself of the privileges of an imaginary servant-maid to
penetrate the inner chambers of temples of fashion, to discover
and disclose the arena of aristocratic life. The follies and foibles
of persons in high life, the trials and heart-sicknesses of unfor
tunate governesses, and the vicissitudes in the career of ladies'-
rnaids, and, in particular, in that of one famine de chambre, who
became the lady of a bilious nabob, are the subjects of this nov
el, written writh great animation, and the usual piquancy and
liveliness of style of the writer.

"Lionel Deerhurst, or Fashionable Life under the Regency,"
was published by Bentley, 1846.

" Marrnaduke Herbert," a novel, was published in 1847. Of
this work, a very eminent litterateur wrote in the following terms
to Lady Blessington, May 22d, 1847 :

" It seems to rne, in many respects, the best book you have
written. I object to some of the details connected with the
' fatal error,' but the management of its effects is marked by a
very high degree of power ; and the analytical subtlety and skill
displayed throughout the book struck me very much.

" I sincerely and warmly congratulate you on what must cer
tainly extend your reputation as a writer."

" Country Quarters," a novel, first appeared in the columns
of a London Sunday paper in 1848, and was published separ
ately, and edited by Lady Blessington's niece, Miss Power, aft
er her ladyship's death, in 3 vols. 8vo, Shoberl, 1850.

" Country Quarters," the last production of Lady Blessington,

222 NOTICES OF THE WRITINGS OF LADY BLESSINGTON.

is illustrative of a state of society and of scenes in real life in
provincial towns, in which young English military Lotharios and
tender-hearted Irish heroines, speculative and sentimental, are
the chief performers, for the delineation of which Lady Bless-
ington was far more indebted to her recollection than to her im
agination. There is no evidence of exhausted intellect in this
last work of Lady Blessington's. But the drollery is not the fun
that oozed out from exuberant vivacity in the early days of Lady
Blessington's authorship ; it is forced, strained, " written up" tor
occasion ; and yet there is an air of cheerfulness about it, which,
to one knowing the state of mind in which that work was writ
ten, would be very strange, almost incredible, if we did not call
to mind the frame of mind in which the poem of John Gilpin
was written by Cowper.

The literary friends of Lady Blessington were in the habit of
expressing to her ladyship their opinions on her performances
as they appeared, and sometimes of making very useful sugges
tions to her.

The general tone of opinions addressed to authors by their
friends, must, of course, be expected to be laudatory ; and those,
it must be admitted, of many of Lady Blessington's friends were
no exception to the rule.

Of " The Repealers," a very distinguished writer thus wrote
to the authoress :

" My dear Lady Blessington, I have read your 'Repealers ;'
you must be prepared for some censure of its politics. I have
been too warm a friend to the Coercive Bill to sufler so formi
dable a combatant as you to possess the field without a chal
lenge. I like many parts of your book much ; but — will you for
give me? — you have not done yourself justice. Your haste is
not evident in style, which is pure, fluent, and remarkably
elegant, but in the slightness of the story. You have praised
great ladies and small authors too much ; but that is the fault
of good nature. Let your next book, I implore you, be more of
passion, of sentiment, and of high character. You are capable
of great things, of beating many of the female writers of the day
in prose, and you ought to task your powers to the utmost ; your
genius is worthy of application.

NOTICES OF THE WRITINGS OF LADY BLESSINGTON. 223

" Forgive all this frankness ; it is from one who admires you
too much not to be sincere, and esteems you too highly to fear
that you will be offended at it."

Another eminent literary writer writes to her on the subject
of another recent production of hers :

"You have only to write passions instead of thoughts in order
to excel in novel writing. But you fear too much ; you have the
prudes before you ; you do not like to paint the passions of love,
you prefer painting its sentiment. The awe of the world chills
you. But perhaps I am wrong, and in ' The Two Friends' I
shall find you giving us another ' Corinne' or a better ' Admi
ral's Daughter,' both being works that depend solely on passion
for their charm. You have all the tact, truth, and grace of De
»Stael, and have only to recollect that while she wrote for the
world, the world vanished from her closet. In writing, we
should see nothing before us but our own wild hearts, our own
experience, and not till we correct proofs should we remember
that we are to have readers."

One fully authorized to speak on the subject of authorship
thus writes to her ladyship on the appearance of a recent novel
of hers :

" People often say to me, I shall write a novel ; if I question
them ' on what rule ?' they state they know of no rules. They
write history, epic, the drama, criticism, by rules ; and for the
novel, which comprises all four, they have no rules ; no wonder
that there is so much of talent manque in half the books we read.
In fact, we ought to do as the sculptors do, gaze upon all the
great master-pieces till they sink into us, till their secrets pene
trate us, and then we write according to rules without being
quite aware of it.

" I have been trying to read some fashionable French books.
Sue and Balzac seem most in vogue, but the task is too heavy.
Rant run mad, and called, God wot, philosophy ! I feel as if
these writers had taken an unfair advantage of us, and their
glittering trash makes common sense too plain and simple to be
true."

Of " The Victims of Society," a friendly critic writes :

224 NOTICES OF THE WRITINGS OF LADY BLESSINGTOX.

" I have finished the whole of The Victims of Society.' The
characters are drawn with admirable tact arid precision, and a
knowledge of human nature that is only too fine for the obtuse.
You are, indeed, very severe in the second volume, more so
than I had anticipated ; but it is severe truth, finely conceived,
boldly attempted, and consummately executed. \ou have
greatly retrieved and fined down Miss Montresor's character by
her touches of penitence and remorse. Lord C— — is perfect.

\V , an English dandy throughout. I can not conceive that

you have any thing to dread. You have attacked only persons
whom the general world like to hear attacked ; the few who
wince will pretend not to understand the application."

Of" The Idler in Italy," one of her most distinguished friends
says :

" I have already nearly finished the two volumes of ' The
Idler in Italy,' and am delighted with the sparkling and grace
ful ease. You interest us in every thing, even in the ' bed rest
ing on pillar swans,' and the ' terrace that is to be turned into a
garden :' your observations on men and things are, as usual, ex
cellent. All the account of the Revolution is highly animated
and original ; I am sure the work will be UNIVERSALLY liked/'

On the appearance of " The Two Friends," Lady Blessington
received the following notice of it from one of her literary ac
quaintance :

" I have just finished your work, ' The Two Friends,' and I
may congratulate you on a most charming publication, which
can not fail to please universally, and to increase your reputa
tion. It is true that there is nothing exaggerated in it, but it is
written in a thoroughly good tone and spirit, very elegant, and
sustained with great knowledge of character, many dramatic
situations, abounding with profound observations and much
playful wit. The happiest and newest character of the kind I
know is the Count de Bethune. He is admirable. His bearing
his griefs like ' a man and a Frenchman,' his seeing to his din
ner, arid reproving his daughter 1'or her want of feeling in dis
turbing his digestion, are exquisite traits of character, and re
mind us of the delicate touches of Manzoni in 'I Promessi Sposi,'

NOTICES OF THE WRITINGS OF LADY BLESSINGTON. 225

Lord Scamper is very humorous, and I laughed heartily at some
of the scenes in which he appears, though in one part his verisi
militude is a little injured by your making him talk sense about
the Revolution. Your politics there, by-the-by, are shockingly
Tory, and will please Lord Abinger. There are some beauti
ful discriminative reflections, not dragged in per force, nor te
dious and extraneous, but natural and well timed. In your
story you have improved prodigiously since ' The Repealers ;' it
is more systematic and artful. Altogether, you have exceeded
my hopes, and may reckon here on complete success. Lady
W aimer is very harsh, but a very true portrait. Cecile is charm
ing, and pleases me more than Lady Emily, I scarcely know
why. The only fault I see in your book is, that it is a little too
prudent. But perhaps you are quite right, and a man does not
allow for the fears of a woman ; at all events, such prudence
will make you more popular. There is no doubt of your having
greatly excelled ' The Repealers.' '

Another novel of her ladyship's called forth the following ob
servations from another quarter :

" I have received your book (' Marmaduke Herbert'), and I
must candidly tell you that I think you have outdone yourself in
this most interesting and effective work. It has a grave, sus
tained solemnity of power about it, of which I can not speak too
highly.

" It reminds me greatly of Godwin's earlier writings. The
same minute and faithful analysis of feeling, the same patience
in building up the interest, and the same exhibition of strength
and weakness in one motley volume.

" I did not think, when you spoke to me of the story long ago,
that you could have made so fine a thing of it. The first vol
ume and a half are extremely thrilling, and without effort."

" The Belle of a Season" brought several letters to Lady
Blessington. The following one is most deserving of being
cited :

" I read your ' Belle of the Season' with sincere admiration ;
the very lightness of the subject makes the treatment so difficult,
and it is surprising how much actual interest you have given to

K <>

926 NOTICES OF THE WRITINGS OF LADY BLESSINGTON.

the story, while the verification is so skillful, so graceful and
easy, as to be a model in its way.

" I was charmed from the first few lines, and indeed the open
ing of the story is one of the happiest parts.

" The whole partakes of the character of the subject, and is a
true picture of what a London season is to a young lady — open-
in0" those views that are new to her of life and society. A Lon
don season wears different faces to different classes ; the politi
cian, the author, the actor, the artist, the tradesman, the pick
pocket, the boy who wants to " 'old your 'oss', each has his own
London season. But no doubt the happiest of all, for a year or
two, is the young lady's, beginning with court, and ending
with a fancy ball, to say nothing of the declaration, for that is
the drop scene.

" Your style is peculiarly fluent and appropriate, and very orig
inal. I do not remember any specimen of the ' Rambler' like it.

" I then went from poetry to prose, arid read your ' Govern
ess.' The story is very interesting, and the character of the poor
child so exquisite a sketch, that I regret much that it was not
more elaborate ; it alone would have furnished matter for three
volumes. The Williamsons are extremely well hit off', and so
are the Manwarings ; the poets, and characters I like best, are
those which belong to what is now the popular class of litera
ture, very caricature. To this class I think the Mondens, and
some of the scenes at Mr. V. Robinson's, belong. But they are
amusing, and will, no doubt, please generally.

" I am delighted to see that you improve and mature in your
charming talent with every new work. I never saw a more
striking improvement in any writer since the date, not a long
one, of the ' Repealers.' I ought, as I am on the subject, to add
how much I was struck with the little tale of the Dreamer ; if
a very few lines, a little too English arid refined, were toned
down into the Irish coloring of the rest, it would be a perfect
gern in composition, as it is now in sentiment and conception."

THE ANNUALS.
The late Frederick Shoberl, Esq., who died in March, 1853.

NOTICES OF THE WRITINGS OF LADY BLESSINGTON. 227

originated in 1823, in conjunction with the late Mr. Ackermann,
the first of the English annuals, " The Forget-me-not." For sev
eral years he was the editor of it. The last of these annuals
was the volume for 1834. This periodical paved the way for
the numerous illustrated works that have since issued from the
press.

These luxuries of literature were got up especially for the en
tertainment of ladies and gentlemen of fashionable circles, but
not exclusively for the elite of English society. The tastes of
belles and beaux of the boudoir of all grades aspiring to distinc
tion were to be catered for, and the contributors, in general, were
sought for among the aristocracy, not in the republic of letters.

It was necessary, however, to enliven a. little dullness of no
ble amateur authorship with the sparkling gems of genius, with
more regard to brilliancy of talent than to advantages of ances
try, and these adventitious aids of professional literati were very
largely paid for.

In 1828, Moore makes mention of the editor of " The Keep
sake" offering him £600 for 120 lines of either prose or poetry,
which he declined.

Persons known as popular writers had likewise to be employ
ed as editors of those periodicals, and were largely paid in gen
eral ; some for their name alone, and others for their services.

In those palmy days of annual periodicals, when the name of a
literary notability as editor was so important to success, we find
"The Scenic Annual" for 1838 edited by Thomas Campbell.

" The Keepsake" for 1833 was edited by F. Mansel Reynolds.
The contributors were the Countess of Blessington, Lord Dover,
Leitch Ritchie, Esq., John Carne, Esq., J. H. Louther, Esq., M.P.,
Hon. Grantley Berkley, Hon. W. Liddell, Ralph Bernal, Esq.,
M.P., Lord Morpeth, James Boaden, Esq., Lord Mahon, Mrs. C.
Gore, Colley Grattan, Esq., Mrs. Shelley, Hon. H. Craddock, au
thor of " Hajji Baba ;" Archdeacon Spencer, Miss L. E. Landon,
&c., &c.

"The Court Journal" for 1833 was edited by the Hon. Mrs.
Norton.

" Heath's Book of Beauty" for the same year was edited by
L. E. L.

228 NOTICES OF THE WRITINGS OF LADY BLESSINGTON.

" Portraits of the Children of the Nobility" was edited by Mrs.
Fairlee in 1838, and in the same year, "The Picturesque An
nual" by Lcitch Ritchie.

Fisher's "Drawing-Room Scrap-Book" for 1838 was edited
by L. E. L.

" Flowers of Loveliness," with poetical illustrations by L. E. L.,
also appeared the same year.

Finden's " Tableaux ; or, Picturesque Scenes of National Char
acter, Beauty, and Costume," edited by Mary Russell Mitford,
was published in 1838. The poetical contributions were by Mr.
Kenyon, Mr. Chorley, and Barry Cornwall.

The greatest and first promoter, in his day, of illustrated an^
nuals, was Mr. (Jharles Heath.

This eminent engraver was the son of Mr. James Heath, q,
distinguished artist also, whose engravings have been the stud
ies on which the two Findens are said to have employed days
and nights.

The success of the Findens in working for the booksellers in
the illustration of periodicals and popular publications did not
satisfy themselves. They became the publishers of their own
works, and the works of those whose productions were illustrated
by them. Their Byron Illustrations turned out advantageous,
but in their other speculations they were less fortunate. Mr.
William Finden's " Gallery of British Art" proved a ruinous un
dertaking ; he died in very poor circumstances, September 20,
1852, in his sixty-fifth year.

Mr. Charles Heath had, like the Findens, entered on the pub
lication of periodicals illustrated by him, and with the same un
fortunate result. He excelled in small plates, and in his hands
that sort of artistic talent exhibited in the embellishment of an
nuals reached its greatest perfection.

Heath's " Book of Beauty" for 1834, edited by the Countess
of Blessirigton, contained nine pieces by her ladyship. The fol
lowing are the contents of this volume, and the names or signa
tures of the authors :

1. The Choice of Phylias, a tale. Sir E. L. B.

2. Francesca, a poem. Dr. William Beattie.

NOTICES OF THE WRITINGS OF LADY BLESSINGTON. 229

3. Margaret Carnegie, a tale. Viscount Castlereagh.

4. The Phantom Guest, a poem. Anonymous.

5. Mary Lester, a tale. Countess of Blessington.

6. To a Jasmine Tree, lines. Viscount Morpeth.

7. Amy, lines. Countess of Blessington.

8. The Friends, a tale. Henry Lytton Bulwer, Esq., M.P.

9. On the Portrait of Lady C. A. W, Villiers, lines. Lady E.

S.Wortley.

10. An Irish Fairy Fable, a tale. Mrs. »S. C. Hall.

11. Pho3be, or my Grandmamma West, lines. James Smith.

12. Imaginary Conversations, Rhadamistus and Zeiiobia.

W. S. Landor.

13. To Memory, stanzas. The Countess of Blessington.

14. The Desert, lines. John Gait, Esq.

15. Bianca Vanezzi, lines. Dudley West, Esq.

16. Rosalie, lines. Countess of Blessington.

17. Epochs, lines. H. L. Bulwer, Esq.

18. Imaginary Conversations, Philip II. and Donna Juana

Coelho. W. 8. Landor.

19. The Coquette, a tale. The Countess of Blessington.

20. The Deserted Wife, lines. R. Bernal, Esq., M.P.

21. Farewell forever, lines. J. H. Lowther, Esq.

22. The Bay of Naples in the summer of 1824, a sketch.

The Countess of Blessington.

23. To Matilda sketching, lines. The Countess of Bless

ington.

24. Rebecca, a tale. Anonymous.

25. To Lucy reading, lines. The Countess of Blessington.

26. What art thou, life ? stanzas. Idem.

As one of the most favorable specimens of those illustrated
works, the following notice of " the Book of Beauty" for 1835,
under the editorship of Lady Blessington, may not be out of
place. The principal beautiful celebrities of whom engraved
portraits are given in this volume are " The Marchioness of
Abercorri," by E. Landseer ; " Lucilla," by Parris ; " jNTourma-
hal," by Meadows ; " Habiba," by Chalon. The gem of the vol
ume is " Juliet," by Bostock.

230 NOTICES OF THE WRITINGS OF LADY BLESSINGTON.

Among the contributors we find the distinguished literary
names of Viscount Strangford, Sir William Gell, E. L. Bulwer,
31. P., Lord Nugent, the Hon. K. R. Craven, Lady Emmeline S.
Wortley, Lord Albert Conyngham, R. Bernal, M.P., Lady Char
lotte Bury, Lord William Lennox, Miss Louisa H. Sheridan, H.
L. Bulwer, M.P., Sir Aubrey de Yere, Bart., Hon. G. Berkely,
Hon. J. Lester, Sir William Somerville, Bart., Hon. K. Talbot,
Mr. Sergeant Talfourd, M.P., &c., &c.

The fair editress contributed a lively and graceful illustration
of an excellent plate, named " Felicite," by M'Clise, represent
ing a pretty pert lady's maid trying on a fine dress before the
glass, and looking perfectly satisfied with the result.

FELICITE.

BY THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON.

" Oh ! would I were a lady,
In costly silks to shine ;
Who then could stand beside me '!
What figure match with mine I

" Who'd rave about my mistress,

With her pale and languid face,
If they could see my pink cheeks,
Edged round with Brussels lace !

" How well her cap becomes me !

With what a jaunty air
I've placed it oft' my forehead,
To show my shining hair !

" And I declare, these ribands

Just suit me to a shade ;
If Mr. John could see me,
My fortune would be made.

" Nay, look ! her bracelets fit me,

Though just the least too tight ;
To wear what costs so much, must
Afford one great delight.

" And then this pretty apron,

So bowed, and frill'd and laced —
I hate it on my mistress,

Though well it shows my waist.

NOTICES OF THE WRITINGS OF LADY BLESSINGTON. 231

" I must run down one minute,

That Mr. John may see
How silks, and lace, and ribands
Set off a girl like me.

" Yet all of these together,

Ay, pearls and diamonds too,
Would fail to make most ladies look
As well as — I know who."

Another of these periodicals, edited by her ladyship from 1835
to 1840, was entitled " Gems of Beauty, designs by E. T. Parris,
Esq., with fanciful illustrations in verse by the Countess of
Blessington."

Her ladyship was gifted with a great facility for versification ;
poetry of a high order hers certainly was not. But she could
throw great vivacity, much humor, and some pathos into her
v ers de societe, and many of her small published pieces in verse
were quite equal to the ordinary run of " bouts rhymees" in the
literature of annuals, and some far superior to them. But it
must be observed, Lady Blessington's poetry derived consider
able advantage from the critical care, supervision, and correc
tion of very eminent literary men, some certainly the most emi
nent of their day. Of this fact there are many evidences, and
some proofs of extensive services of this sort.

" The Book of Beauty for 1843," edited by the Countess of
Blessington, contained only two pieces by her ladyship.

1. On a Picture of Her Majesty and Children, lines. Dr. W.

Beattie.

2. An Episode in Life, a tale. Sir E. L. Bulwer, Bart.

3. On Portrait of Princess Esterhazy, lines. Countess of

Blessington.

4. Love, lines. Mrs. Edward Thomas.

5. To , lines. A. Baillie Cochrane, Esq., M.P.

6. Inez de Castro, a sketch. Lord William Lennox.

7. Mens Divinior, lines. Barry Cornwall.

8. On Portrait of Mrs. Craven, lines. Anonymous.

9. Medora, a fragment. C. G. H.

10. On Portrait of Mrs. Kynaston, lines. Anonymous.

232 NOTICES OF THE WRITINGS OF LADY BLESS1NGTON.

11. Ministering Angels, lines. Adelaide.

12. Poets die in Autumn, lines. Mrs. C. B. Wilson.

13. A sketch in the Tuilleries. Hon. George Smythe, Esq.

14. On the 25th of January, 1842., lines. Lord John Manners.

15. The Venetian Glass, a tale. Baroness de Calabrella.

16. On Portrait of Miss Dormer, lines. Miss Power.

17. In Midland Ocean, a sketch. B. D 'Israeli, Esq., M.P.

18. William of Ripperda, lines. Anonymous.

19. Third Imaginary Letter, Earl of Chesterfield to his daugh

ter. Viscount Powerscourt.

20. The Fairy Ring, lines. Miss A. Savage.

21. On Portrait of Miss Meyer, lines. Miss Power.

22. The Two Flowers, lines. Miss M. H. Acton.

23. Rail-roads and Steam-boats, a sketch. Lady Blessington.

24. On the Civic Statue of the Duke of Wellington, Latin lines.

Marquis Wellesley.

25. On Portrait of the Hon. Mrs. Spalding. A. H. Plunkett.

26. Ye Gentlemen of England. Sir J. Hanmer, Bart., M.P.

27. Her I dearly love, lines. R. Bernal, Esq., M.P.

28. The Teacher, a sketch. Mrs. S. C. Hall.

29. Ellen, a tale. Major Mundy.

30. The Great Oak, lines. Lord Leigh.

31. Night breezes, lines. Miss Ellen Power.

32. Death, song. Lady Emmeline Stuart Wortley.

33. Edward Clinton, a tale. Sir Hesketh Fletwood, Bart.

34. On Portrait of Mrs. C. Coape. Anonymous.

35. A Children's Fancy Ball, lines. Lady Stepney.

36. Imaginary Conversation, Vittoria Colonna and M. A. Bu-

onarotti, by W. S. Landor.

37. On Portrait of Mrs. Burr, lines. Camilla Toulmin.

38. To Leonora, lines. Mrs. Torre Holme.

39. Can I e'er cease to love thec ? lines. J . D'Oyley, Esq.

40. Gratitude, a sketch. Captain Marry att.

41. On the launching of a Yacht, lines. Richard Johns, Esq.

42. Morna, Adieu, lines. Hon. Grantley F. Berkeley, M.P.

43. Claudia, a tale. Virginia Murray.

44. On Portrait of Miss Bcllew, lines. A. Hume Plunkett.

NOTICES OF THE WRITINGS OF LADY BLESSINGTON. 233

45. Yes, peace should be there, lines. A. H. T.

46. The Stone-cutter Boy, a sketch. Miss Grace Aguilar.

47. The Closed Gate, lines. Marchioness of Hastings.

48. I love the Oak, lines. Sir W. Somerville, Bart., M.P.

49. Lines on Portrait of Mrs. G. "Wingfield. Miss Power.

50. The two Soldiers, a sketch. Barry Cornwall.

51. The Song of a Bird, lines to Miss E. Power. Anonymous.

52. Sleeping and waking Dreams, lines. Mrs. Abdy.

53. An agreeable Tete-a-tete, sketch. Isabella F. Homer.

54. Field Flowers, lines. Miss E. Scaife.

For several years Lady Blessington continued to edit both pe
riodicals, " the Keepsake" and " the Book of Beauty." This oc
cupation brought her into contact with almost every literary
man of eminence in the kingdom, or of any foreign country, who
visited England. It involved her in enormous expense, far be
yond any amount of remuneration derived from the labor of ed
iting those works. It made a necessity for entertaining contin
ually persons to whom she looked for contributions, or from whom
she had received assistance of that kind. It involved her, more
over, in all the drudgery of authorship, in all the turmoil of con
tentions with publishers, communications with artists, and never-
ending correspondence with contributors. In a word, it made
her life miserable.

In 1848, Heath died in insolvent circumstances, heavily in
debt to Lady Blessington, to the extent nearly of £700. His
failure had taken place six or seven years previously. From
that time the prosperity of the annuals was on the wane, and
Lady Blessington's receipts from them became greatly reduced.
The prices she received for her novels had likewise been much
diminished. In fact, of late years it was with the utmost diffi
culty she could get a publisher to undertake, at his own risk, the
publication of a work of hers.

The public were surfeited with illustrated annuals. The taste
for that species of literature had died out. The perpetual glori
fication even of beauty had become a bore. The periodical pas-
ans sung in honor of the children of the nobility ceased to be
amusing. Lords, and ladies, and right honorables, ready to write

034 NOTICES OF THE WRITINGS OF LADY BLESSINGTON.

on any subject at the command of fashionable editors and ed
itresses, there was no dearth of, but readers were not to be had
at length for love or money.

When Lady Blessing-ton's income from the annuals and her
novels began to fall off largely, she hoped to be able to derive
.some emolument from other sources.

In 1845, a newspaper project on a grand scale was entered
into by the eminent printers, Messrs. Bradbury and Evans, with
the co-operation of some of the most distinguished literary men
of England. The " Daily News" was established, and the lit
erary services of Lady Blessington were solicited for it in Jan
uary, 1846. Her ladyship was to contribute, in confidence, " any
sort of intelligence she might like to communicate, of the say
ings, doings, memoirs, or movements in the fashionable world."
Her contributions were supposed to consist of what is called
" Exclusive Intelligence."

Lady Blessington estimated the value of the services required
of her at £800 per annum ; the managers, however, considered
the amount more than could be well devoted to that branch of
intelligence. They proposed an arrangement at the rate of
.£500 a year for the term of half a year, but at the rate of .£400
a year for a year certain ; and the arrangement was carried
into effect.

In May, 1846, Lady Blessington wrote to the managers, stat
ing " it was not her intention to renew her engagement with
the 'Daily News.'"

The sum of jC250 for six months' services was duly paid by
the proprietors.

Mr. Dickens retired from the management of the paper in
July, 1846, and was replaced by Mr. Forster, who gave up the
management in November following.*

* There are some observations that have reference to the writings of Forster
and Dickens, in a letter of Lady Blessington on literary subjects, addressed to a
very dear friend and a very distinguished writer, which are deserving of notice.

" I have read with delight the article of F on the ' Life of Churchill.' It

is the most masterly review I ever read, and places Churchill in a so much better
point of view as to excite a sympathy for him. Every one is speaking of this re
view. All the papers have taken it up. It is generally attributed to Macaulay,

NOTICES OF THE WRITINGS OF LADY BLESSINGTON. 235

Mr. Jerdan, formerly editor of the " Literary Gazette," who
was intimately acquainted with the publishing affairs of Lady
Blessington, thus speaks in his " Autobiography" of the income
she derived from her literary labors :

" As an author and editor of ' Heath's Annual' for some years,
Lady Blessington received considerable sums. I have known
her to enjoy from her pen an amount somewhere midway be
tween £2000 and £3000 per annum, and her title, as well as
talents, had considerable influence in ' ruling high prices,' as
they say in Mark Lane and other markets. To this, also, her
well-arranged parties with a publisher now and then, to meet
folks of a style unusual to men in business, contributed their at
tractions ; arid the same society was in reality of solid value to
ward the production of such publications as the annuals, the con
tents of which were provided by the editor almost entirely from
the pens of private friends, instead of being dearly bought from
the ' Balaam' refuse of celebrated writers."

On this subject Miss Power says :

" I never heard her say the exact amount of her literary prof
its any particular year. I believe that for some years she made,
on an average, somewhat about a thousand a year; some years
a good deal above that sum."

WAIFS AND STRAYS OF THOUGHTS AND OBSERVATIONS ; OR, ODDS AND
ENDS OF IMPRESSIONS AND REFLECTIONS, FROM LADY BLESSING-
TON'S UNPUBLISHED PAPERS, VERSES, AND MEMORANDA, IN COMMON
PLACE BOOKS.

Lady Blessington was in the habit for some time of writing

and is said to be the best of his articles. F has crushed Tooke by the dex
trous exposure of his mistakes, ignorance, and want of comprehension. I assure
you that Count D'Orsay and I are as proud of the praises we hear of this article

on every side, as if we had ti share in it. F 's notice of ' The Chimes' is

perfect. It takes the high tone it ought for that book, and ought to make those
ashamed who cavil because its great author had a nobler task in view than writ
ing to amuse Sybarites, who do not like to have their selfish pleasures disturbed
by hearing of the miseries of the poor. You will smile to see me defending our
friend Mr. Dickens from charges of wishing to degrade the aristocracy. I really
have no patience with such stupidity. I now clearly perceive that the reading
world of a certain class imagine that an author ought to have no higher aim than
their amusement, and they account as a personal insult any attempt to instruct
them."

236 WAIFS AND STRAYS OF THOUGHTS, ETC.,

down her thoughts and observations at the close of every day,
after she retired from her drawing-room, and the book in which
this record was made of her reflections on the passing events of
the day, the conversations of the evening, the subjects of her
reading or research, she called her " Night Book." The earliest
of these books commences with an entry of the 21st of March,
1834 ; the second of them with the year alone, 1835.

The following extracts from these books, in which the pensees
are given as they were written (word for word, and signed with
the initials M. B.), will clearly show that her ladyship's exten
sive acquaintance with society, her quickness of perception, acu
men, and felicitous mode of compressing her ideas, and giving
expression to them in laconic, piquant, and precise terms, ena
bled her to give an epigrammatic turn to sentiments, which
could only be similarly done by one thoroughly conversant with
the writings of Rochefoucault and Montaigne.

The reader will hardly fail to notice in these pensees evident
relationship between the ideas of many cynics of celebrity of
France, the images too of several of our own most popular poet
ical writers, and the smart short sayings of her ladyship, with
all the air of originality, neatness of attire, and graceful liveli
ness of language which she has given them.

But the " Night Book" gives only a very poor and inadequate
idea of the thoughts which were productive of such effect, when
given expression to by her ladyship with all that peculiar charm
of naivete, natural turn for irony, admirable facility of expression,
clearness of intonation and distinctness of enunciation, joyous-
ness of spirits, beaming in those beautiful features of hers (when
lit up by animated conversation, the consciousness of the pres
ence of genius, and contact with exalted intellect), that sponta
neous outpouring of felicitous thoughts and racy observations,
ever accompanied with an exuberant good humor, often supply
ing the place of wit, but never degenerating into coarseness or
vulgarity, which characterized her conversational powers, and,
in fact, constituted the chief fascination of her society

FROM UNPUBLISHED PAPERS OF LADY BLESSINGTON. 237

GENIUS AND TALENT.

" Genius is the gold in the mine, talent is the miner who
works and brings it out."

" Genius may be said to reside in an illuminated palace of
crystal, unapproachable to other men, which, while it displays
the brightness of its inhabitant, renders also any blemishes in
her form more visible by the surrounding light, while men of
ordinary minds dwell in opaque residences, in which no ray of
brightness displays the faults of ignoble mediocrity."

TALENT.

" Talent, like beauty, to be pardoned, must be obscure and
unostentatious."

GREAT INTELLECTUAL POWERS.

" In many minds, great powers of thinking slumber on through
life, because they never have been startled by any incident cal
culated to take them out of the common routine of every-day
occurrence."

CLEVER WOMEN ENVIED.

" It is less difficult, we are told by Brissot, for a woman to
obtain celebrity by her genius than to be pardoned for it."

EFFECTS OF CONTACT WITH GENIUS.

" It is doubtful whether we derive much advantage from a
constant intercourse with superior minds. If our own be of
equal calibre, the contact is likely to excite the mind into ac
tion, and original thoughts are often struck out ; but if any in
feriority exists, the inferior mind is quelled by the superior, or
loses whatever originality it might have possessed by uncon
sciously adopting the opinions and thoughts of the superior in
telligence."

LITERATURE AND LITERATI.

" On reading a work, of how many faults do we accuse the

238 WAIFS AND STRAYS OF THOUGHTS, ETC.,

author when they are only to be found in ourselves. If the
story is melancholy, and yet we feel not the sadness of it, we
lay the blame of our insensibility on the author's want of pathos.
If it be gay, and yet it fails to amuse us, we call in question the
writer's want of power."

JUDGMENT OF BOOKS.

" The frame of mind in which we read a work often influ
ences our judgment upon it. That which for the moment pre
dominates in our minds colors all that we read : and we are aft
erward surprised, on a reperusal of works of this kind, under
other circumstances and with different feelings, to find no lon
ger the merit we formerly attributed to them."

SUPPOSED CORRESPONDENCE BETWEEN THE WRITINGS OF AU
THORS AND THEIR LIVES.

" The world is given to indulge in the very erroneous supposi
tion that there exists an identity between the writings of au
thors and their actual lives and characters.

" Men are the slaves of circumstances in the mass ; but men
of genius, from the excitability of their temperament, are pecu
liarly acted on by surrounding influences. How many of them,
panting after solitude, are compelled to drag on existence in
crowded cities, and how many of them, sighing for the excite
ment of busy life, and the friction of exalted intelligence with
kindred intellect, pass their lives in retirement, because circum
stances, which they were too indolent or too feeble to control,
had thrown them into it. Such men in their writings will have
the natural bias of their feelings and tastes frequently mistaken
by those around them. The world judges falsely when it forms
an estimate of an author from the life of the man, and the life
and conduct of the man from the writings of the author, and
finding discrepancies between them, may often bring forward
accusations of insincerity, making comparisons between their
works and lives."

FROM UNPUBLISHED PAPERS OF LADY BLESSINGTON. 339
POETS AND POETRY.

" Poets make a book of nature, wherein they read lessons un
known to other minds, even as astronomers make a book of the
heavens, and read therein the movements of the planets.

" The poetry in our souls is like our religion, kept apart from
our every-day thoughts, and, alas ! neither influence us as they
ought. We should be wiser and happier (for wisdom is happi
ness) if their harmonizing effects were permitted more to per
vade our being."

WIT AND CENSORIOUSNESS.

" Half the reputations for wit that pass current in fashionable
life are based on ill-natured sayings of persons who would have
found it difficult to have obtained any notice in society, except
by censorious observations ; they are of the class of whom
mention is made in the French verse :

" ' S'il n'eut mal parle do personne
On n'eut jamais parle de lui.' "

PLAIN-SPEAKING GENTLEMEN.

" Your plain speakers are usually either of obtuse intellect or
ill-natured dispositions, wounding the feelings of others from
want of delicacy of mind and sensibility, or from intentional
malice. They deserve to be expelled from the society of en
lightened people, because they are likely to give annoyance to
all who are not of their own level in it."

MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS.

'; Borrowed thoughts, like borrowed money, only show the
poverty of the borrower."

" A poor man defended himself when charged with stealing
food to appease the cravings of hunger, saying, the cries of the
stomach silenced those of the conscience."

" A woman should not paint sentiment till she has ceased to
inspire it.5'

240 WAIFS AND STRAYS OF THOUGHTS, ETC.,

" A woman's head is always influenced by her heart, but a
man's heart is always influenced by his head.

" Catherine the First of Russia was called the mother of her
people ; Catherine the Second, with equal justice, might be de
nominated the wife."

" Memory seldom fails when its office is to show us the
tombs of our buried hopes."*

" It would be well if virtue was never seen unaccompanied
by charity, nor vice divested of that grossness which displays it
in its most disgusting form, for the examples of both would then
be more beneficial."

" Some good qualities are not unfrequently created by the be
lief of their existence, for men are generally anxious to justify
the good opinion entertained of them."

THE WORST OF SEPARATIONS.

" The separation of friends by death is less terrible than the
divorce of two hearts that have loved, but have ceased to sym
pathize, while memory is still recalling what they once were
to each other."

ENGLISH RESERVE.

" Distrust is the most remarkable characteristic of the English
of the present day. None but the acknowledged wealthy are
exempted from the suspicions of our society. The good, the
wise, the talented, are subject to the scrutinizing glances of this
policy of suspicion ; and those by whom it is carried out sel
dom fail to discover cause of distrust and avoidance in all that
they will not or can not comprehend. But on the poor their
suspicions fall, if not with all their malice, at least with all
their uncharitableness. Hence they are shunned, and regarded

* Young's ideas sometimes furnish the mail or of Lady Blcssington's "Night
Thoughts."

" Thought— busy thought— too busy for my peace,
Through the dark postern of Time long elapsed,
Led softly by the stillness of the night-
Led like a murderer —

Meets the ghosts ^

Of my departed joys."

FROM UNPUBLISHED PAPERS OF LADY BLESSINGTON. 241

as dangerous or doubtful neighbors by the sons and daughters
of prosperity."

WORLDLY WISDOM, SOCIETY, ETC.

" Society seldom forgives those who have discovered the emp
tiness of its pleasures, and who can live independent of it and
them."

" Great men direct the events of their times ; wise men take
advantage of them ; weak men are borne down by them."

" In the society of persons of mediocrity of intellect, a clever
man will appear to have less esprit than those around him who
possess least, because he is displaced in their company."

" Those who are formed to win general admiration are seldom
calculated to bestow individual happiness."

" Half the ill-natured things that are said in society are spo
ken, not so much from malice as from a desire to display the
quickness of our perception, the smartness of our wit, and the
sharpness of our observation."

" A man with common sense may pass smoothly through life
without great talents ; but all the talents in the world will not
enable a man without common sense to do so."

" expends so much eulogy on himself, that he has

nothing but censure and contempt to bestow on others."

" The poor, in their isolation in the midst of civilization, are
like lepers in the outskirts of cities, who have been repulsed
from society with disgust."

" There is a difference between the emotions of a lover and
those of a husband : the lover sighs, and the husband groans."

" There are some persons who hesitate not to inflict pain and
suffering, though they shrink from witnessing its effects. In the
first case it is another who suffers ; in the second, the suffering
being presented to the sight, is thus brought home to the feel
ings of those who inflict it."

SYMPATHIES AND ANTIPATHIES.

" On sympathies and antipathies, how much might be written
without defining either any better than by the pithy lines —
VOL. I.— L.

242 WAIFS AND STRAYS OF THOUGHTS, ETC.,

" ' The reason why I can not tell,
I do not like thee, Dr. Fell.'

And yet all feel, in a greater or less degree, what none can ad
equately describe or define. A dog knows by instinct that cer
tain herbs in a field will relieve him in a sickness, and he de
vours them. We know that certain physiognomies repel or
attract us, and we avoid or seek them ; and this is all we know
of the matter."

ALL THE WORLD'S A STAGE, ETC.

" The great majority of men are actors, who prefer an as
sumed part to that which Nature had assigned them. They
seek to be something, or to appear something which they are
not, and even stoop to the affectation of defects rather than dis
play real estimable qualities which belong to them."

" A German writer observes : ' The noblest characters only
show themselves in their real light. All others act comedy
with their fellow-men even unto the grave.' "

" Men's faults will always be better known than their vir
tues, because their defects will find more persons capable of
forming a judgment of them than their noble qualities — persons
fit to comprehend and to appreciate them."

COLDNESS OF MANNER.

" There are some persons in the world who never permit us
to love them except when they are absent ; as, when present,
they chill our affection by showing a want of appreciation of it."

" Coldness of manner does not always proceed from coldness
of heart, but it frequently produces that effect in others."

CONSCIENCE.

" Conscience is seldom heard in youth, for the tumultuous
throbbing of the heart and the strong suggestions of the pas
sions prevent its still small voice from being audible ; but in
the decline of life, when the heart beats languidly and the pas
sions slumber, it makes itself heard, and on its whispers depend
our happiness or misery."

FROM UNPUBLISHED PAPERS OF LADY BLESSINGTON. 243
BEAUTY AND FEMININE PERFECTIONS.

" Even as a fountain, in whose clear waters are seen the re
flections of the bright stars of heaven, so in 's face was re
flected the divine spirit that animated it and shone through its
pure lineaments."

" A young woman ought, like an angel, to pardon the faults
she can not comprehend, and an elderly woman like a saint,
because she has endured trials."

" One of the old painters always painted the object of his
love as a goddess."

" People are seldom tired of the world till the world are tired
of them."

" If over-caution preserves us from many dangers, of how
much happiness may it not deprive us, by closing our hearts
against the sympathy which sweetens life. ' The heart,' says
Pascal, « has its arguments as well as the understanding.' "

STRONG PASSIONS.

" Strong passions belong only to strong minds, and terrible is
the struggle that Reason has to make to subdue them. The vic
tory is never a bloodless one, and many are the scars that attest
the severity of the conflict before her opponents are driven from
the field."*

" In the 'Memoirs of Mackintosh,' page 115, we find a passage
from the MS. Lectures on the Law of Nature and Nations : * It
was his course to make wonders plain, not plain things wonder
ful.'"

" It is not sufficient for legislators to close the avenues to
crime, unless they open those which lead to virtue."

A POET TRULY CRACKED.

" Jeremy Taylor finds a moral in the fable that ^Eschylus sat

* Once for all, I may observe, in many of the writings of Lady Blessington
there are but too many evidences of the undue importance attached to Reason, as
a power all-sufficient for the repression of vice, the support of virtue, and conso
lation of affliction ; and proofs of an absence of all reliance on religion for the ob
jects in question.

244 WAIFS AND STRAYS OF THOUGHTS, ETC.,

beneath the walls of his abode with his bald head uncovered,
when an eagle, hovering over the house, unfortunately mistook
the shining cranium for a large round stone, and let fall a tor
toise he had just seized to break the shell, but cracked the
skull of the poor poet instead of the shell of the tortoise."

THE DISLIKED MISUNDERSTOOD.

" The moment we are not liked, we discover that we are not
understood ; when probably the dislike we have excited pro
ceeds altogetEer from our being perfectly understood."

THE IDOLS OF THE HEART.

" We make temples of our hearts, in which we worship an
idol, until we discover the object of our love was a false god,
and then, when it falls, it is not the idol only that is destroyed —
the shrine is ruined."

LOVE AND JEALOUSY.

" Love often reillumes his extinguished flame at the torch of
jealousy."

A FALSE POSITION.

" A false position is sustained at a price enormously expens
ive. Sicard truly said, ' line fausse position coute enormement
car le socicte fait payer fort cher aux gens, le tort, qu'ils out, de
ne pas etre d'accord avec eux.' "

JESTERS FUNNY PEOPLE .

" We never respect persons who condescend to amuse us. There
is a vast difference between those we call arnusino- men and

&

others we denominate entertaining. We laugh with the former,
we reflect with the others."

COURAGE, PHYSICAL AND MORAL.

" We find in all countries multitudes of people physically
brave, but, few persons in any land morally courageous."

FROM UNPUBLISHED PAPERS OF LADY BLESSINGTON. 245

SELF-DEPENDENCE.

" We acquire mental strength by being left to our own re
sources ; but when we depend on others, like a cripple who ac
customs himself to a crutch, we lose our own strength, and are
rendered dependent on an artificial prop."

GENEROSITY AND SELFISHNESS.

" A generous mind identifies itself with all around it, but a
selfish one identifies all things with self. The generous man,
forgetting self, seeks happiness in promoting that of others.
The selfish man reduces all things to one — his own interest."

" The good and generous, who look most closely into their
own hearts and scrutinize their own defects, will feel most pity
for the frailties of others."

" Advice, like physic, is administered with more pleasure than
it is taken."

ESTIMATION OF MEN OF THE WORLD.

" Those who give abundant dinners,
Are never deemed by guests great sinners."

" Your bon vivants, who are such ' good livers,' make very bad
diers."

" Shiel describes one of our statesmen as a man who united
the maximum of coldness with the minimum of light ; ' he was
an iceberg with a farthing rushlight on the summit.'"

" Those who judge of men of the world from a distance are
apt to attach an undue importance to them, while those who
are in daily contact with them are prone to underrate them."

C" We are never so severe in dealing with the sins of others as
when we are no longer capable of committing them ourselves."
" Extremes of civilization and of barbarism approach very
nearly — both beget feelings of intense selfishness."

" Inferior minds have as natural an antipathy to superior
ones, as insects have to animals of a higher organization, whose
power is dreaded by them."

" The chief requisites for a courtier are a flexible conscience
and an inflexible politeness."

246 WAIFS AND STRAYS OF THOUGHTS, ETC.,

" The genius and talents of a man may generally be judged
of by the large number of his enemies, and his mediocrity by
that of his friends."

THE YOUNG TO BE KINDLY TREATED.

" Childhood should not be a season of care and constant at
tention, incessant teaching and painful acquisition : Puisque le
jour pent lui rnanquer bientot, laissons le un peu jouir de 1'au-
rore."

SPARTAN MORALISTS.

" Society, in its Spartan morality, punishes its members se
verely for the detection of their vices, but crime itself has noth
ing but detection to apprehend at its hands."

" Some people seem to consider the severity of their censures
on the failings of others as an atonement for their own."

THE VICTIMS OF SOCIETY.

" Society is like the sea monster to which Andromeda was
devoted by the oracle. It requires for its worship many vic
tims, and the fairest must be occasionally given to its devouring
jaws. But we now find no Perseus in its circles for the rescue
of the doomed ones ; and the monster is not converted into a
rock, though we might show him many gorgons hideous enough
to accomplish the transformation."

" In society we learn to know others, but in solitude we ac
quire a knowledge of ourselves."

SHORT NOTICES OF NOTABILITIES.

" 's conversation resembles a November fog — dense, op
pressive, bewildering, through which you can never see your
way."

" The poetry of is like a field with wild flowers, many

of them beautiful and fragrant."

" The poetry of - - resembles a bouquet of artificial flow
ers, destitute of odor, and possessing none of the freshness of
nature."

FROM UNPUBLISHED PAPERS OF LADY BLESSINGTON. 247

" It was said of that his conversation was a tissue of

bon mots, and was overlaid by them : a few spangles may orna
ment a garment, but if the texture of it is wholly covered by
them, the dress is spoiled."

" formed few friendships in life, but he cultivated many

enmities."

" in his old age might be said to resemble a spent thun
derbolt."

" The difference between the minds of : and — — is this :

the one is introspective, and looks into the vast recesses of its
intelligence for the treasures of deep thought ; the other looks
behind the shelves of others' thoughts, and appropriates all he
finds there. The intellect of one is profound and solid, that of
the second sparkling and versatile."

" The works of do not exhibit the overflowings of a full

mind, but rather the dregs of an exhausted one."

" When I see Lady 's wrinkles daubed with rouge, and

her borrowed ringlets wreathed with flowers, I am reminded of
the effigies of the dead, which in ancient times were introduced
at festivals, to recall the brevity of life, and give a keener zest
to the pleasures of existence."

BIGOTRY AND FANATICISM.

" Men who would persecute others for religious opinions,
prove the errors of their own."

" In fighting for the Church, religion seems generally to be
quite lost sight of."

SUPERSTITION.

" Superstition is but the fear of belief ; religion is the confi
dence."

SKEPTICS.

" Skeptics, like dolphins, change when dying."
" We render ourselves the ministers of the fatality which our
weakness imagines."

" It is difficult to decide whether it is most disagreeable to

248 WAIFS AND STRAYS OF THOUGHTS, ETC.,

live with fanatics, who insist on our believing all they believe,
or with philosophers, who would have us doubt every thing of
which they are not convinced themselves."

INJURIES AND FORGIVENESS.

" Forgiveness of injuries in general draws on the forgiver a
repetition of wrongs — as people reason thus : as he has forgiven
so much, he can forgive more."

" If we thought only of others, we might be tempted never
to pardon injuries ; but when we wish to preserve our own
peace, it is a most essential step toward insuring it."

" It is easier to pardon the faults than the virtues of our
friends, because the first excite feelings of self-complacency in
us, the second a sense of humiliation."

" Great injuries pardoned preclude the enjoyment of friend
ship on the same happy terms of equality of benefits received
and conferred, and of kindly feelings that subsisted previously
to the interruption of amity between the parties who had been
linked together in the bonds of mutual love. The friend who
pardons a great wrong acquires a superiority that wounds the
self-love of the pardoned man ; and however the latter may ad
mire the generosity of the forgiver, he can love as he had pre
viously done — no more."

AMBITION. CHANGE.

" Those who arc content to follow are not formed to lead ; for
the ambition which excites a man to put himself forward is, in
general, the attribute of the strong mind, however beset by dif
ficulties, resolved to effect an object much desired."

" Time and change, what are they but the same ?
For change is but for time another name."

" Nos liens s'clongcnt quelquefois, mais
Us ne se rompent jamais."

" How like Goldsmith's line :

" ' And drags at each remove a lengthening chain.' "
" The tide of life is continually ebbing and flowing, and myr-

FROM UNPUBLISHED PAPERS OF LADY BLESSINGTON. 249

iads of human beings pass away to the ocean of eternity, suc
ceeded by others, as do the ripples of a stream that flows on to
the sea, continually disappearing and renewed."

Unfinished lines of Lady Blessington in a memorandum-book:

" The snow-drop looks as if it were a tear of winter,
Shed before it parts, touched by its icy breath,
Which doth become a flower,
Springing from snow — as souls emerge from death."

THE FLOWER TO THE STARS.
" Despise us not ; we are the stars of earth,
And though we homage pay to you on high,
Lifting our fragile heads to view your brightness,
Are ye not forced to let your shining eyes
Dwell on us denizens of the favored earth 7
Formed by the same Almighty cause of all,
Ye look down on us from your azure fields,
And we from ours of green look up to you."

" And thou art gone from earth, like some fair dream

Beheld in slumber, leaving naught behind
But memory, to tell that thou hast been,
And there for evermore to be enshrined.

" As ships that sail upon the boundless deep,

Yet leave no trace ; or onward in their flight,

As birds which cleave the blue and ambient air,

Leave no impress, and soon are lost to sight,

" So those who to eternity do pass,

Like shadows disappear, and naught remains
To tell us they have been, but aching hearts
And pallid traits which memory retains."

UNEQUAL MARRIAGES.
" Oh wise was he, the first who taught
This lesson of observant thought,
That equal fates alone may dress
The bowers of nuptial happiness :
That never where ancestral pride
Inflames, or affluence rolls its tide,
Should love's ill-omened bond entwine
The offspring of an humble line."
L2

250 WAIFS AND STRAYS OF THOUGHTS, ETC.,

To Sir William Massy Stanley, Baronet, on receiving a pres
ent of woodcocks :

" At a season when dunning the mind with dread fills,
You send me the only acceptable bills,
And their length, unlike others, no gloom can inspire,
Though, like many long bills, they're consigned to the fire ;
And we never discuss them unless with a toast,
Washed down by a bumper to Hoolen's good host."

Lines in penciling in a commonplace book of Lady Blessing-
ton :

"Ye gods, what is it that I see !
Oh, who a grandfather would be !
Behold the treasure-store of years,
Sole objects of my hopes and fears,
Collected from far distant lands,
Become a prey to vandal hands ;
Rare manuscripts that none could read,
Symbols of each religious creed ;
Missals with reddest colors bright,
Black-lettered tomes long shut from light;
Medals defaced, with scarce a trace
Of aught resembling human face ;
All in chaotic ruin hurled,
The fragments of a by-gone world.
And you, unpitying girl, who knew
The mischief of this urchin crew,
How could you let them thus destroy
What to collect did years employ 1
Away, ye wicked elves ! Ah me !
Who e'er a grandfather would bel"

TRIALS AND AFFLICTIONS.

" My heart is like a frozen fountain, over which the ice is too
hard to allow of the stream beneath flowing with vigor, though
enough of vitality remains to make the chilling rampart that di
vides its waters from light and air insupportable."*

" A knowledge of the nothingness of life is seldom attained
except by those of superior minds."

* This entry is in the early part of the Night Thought Book, dated 21st of Oc-
toher, 1834.

FROM UNPUBLISHED PAPERS OF LADY BLESSINGTON. 251

" The first heavy affliction that falls on us rends the veil of
life, and lets us see all its darkness."

" Desperate is the grief of him whom prosperity has harden
ed, and who feels the first arrow of affliction strike at his heart
through the life of an object dearest to him on earth."

" The separation of death is less terrible than the moral di
vorce of two hearts which have loved, but have ceased to sym
pathize, with memory recalling what they once were to each
other."

" Religion converts despair, which destroys, into resignation,
which submits."

" Sorrow in its exaltation seems to have an instinctive sym
pathy with the sufferings of others. Brisset observes : ' L'ame
exaltee par la douleur se moritc au diapason d'une autre ame
blessee, aussi facilement que le violon qui, sans etre touche se
met a 1'accord de 1'instrument qu'on fait vibrer loin de lui.' "

" How many errors do we confess to our Creator which we
dare not discover to the most fallible of our fellow-creatures !"

" Fatality is another name for misconduct."

CHAPTER XII.

LINES ADDRESSED TO LADY BLESSINGTON BY VARIOUS PERSONS.

LINES written by Walter Savage Landor to Lady Blessington :

" What language, let me think, is meet
For you, well called the Marguerite.
The Tuscan has too weak a tone,
Too rough and rigid is our own ;
The Latin — no, it will not do,
The Attic is alone for you."

" February 28th, 1848.

" DEAR LADY BLESSINGTON, — The earthquake that has shaken all Italy and
Sicily has alone been able to shake a few cindery verses out of me. Yester
day there was glorious intelligence from France, and you will find, on the
other side, the effect is produced on me within the hour. No ! there will not
be room for it. Here are some lines that I wrote when I was rather a young
er man — date them fifty years back.

" Ever yours most truly, W. S. LANDOR."

252 LINES ADDRESSED TO LADY BLESSINGTON

" The fault is not mine if I love you too much —

I loved you too little too long ;
Such ever your graces, your tenderness such,

The music so sweet of your tongue.
" The time is now coming when love must be gone,

Though he never abandoned me yet ;
Acknowledge our friendship, our passion disown,
Not even our follies forget."

Lines of Walter Savage Landor on a postscript of a letter from
Florence, dated April 25th, 1835 :

" Out of thy books, 0 Beauty ! I had been

For many a year,

Till she who reigns on earth thy lawful queen
Replaced me there."

In one of the letters addressed to Lady Blessington are the
following beautiful lines, written by W. Savage Landor after
perusing a passage in a letter :

"7 have not forgotten your favorite old tune : will you hear it ?"
" Come sprinkle me that music on the breast,

Bring me the varied colors into light,
That now obscurely on its marble rest ;

Show me its flowers and figures fresh and bright.

" Waked at thy voice and touch, again the chords
Restore what envious years had moved away ;
Restore the glowing cheeks, the tender words,

Youth's vernal noon, and pleasure's summer day."

TO THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON.
" Since in the terrace-bower we sate,

While Arno gleamed below,
And over sylvan Massa late
Hung Cynthia's slender bow,

" Years after years have passed away,

Less light and gladsome ! WThy
Do those we most implore to stay,

Run ever swiftly by?"
Not signed, but in the handwriting of W. S. Landor.

The reply of an octogenarian (the elder D'Israeli) to a beauti
ful lady who wrote him some verses on his birth-day, May 11,

1 845 :

BY VARIOUS PERSONS. 253

" A wreath from a muse, a flower from a grace,
Are visions of fancy which memory can trace.
Though sightless, and braving my dungeon around me,
How is it vain phantoms of glory surround me ?
The enchantress with flattery's thrice potent rhyme
Reopens the hours which I lovod in my prime ;
From my eightieth dull year to my fortieth I rise,
And cherish the shadows her genius supplies."

Addressed to Lady Blessington at Genoa by Lord Byron :
" You have asked for a verse : the request

In a rhymer 'twere strange to deny ;
But my Hippocrene was but my breast,
And my feelings (its fountain) are dry.

" Were I now as I was, I had sung

What Lawrence has penciled so well ;

But the strain would expire on my tongue,

And the theme is too soft for my shell.

" I am ashes where once I was fire,

And the bard in my bosom is dead ;
What I loved I now merely admire,
And my heart is as gray as my head.

" My life is not dated by years —

There are moments which act as a plow ;
And there is not a furrow appears
But is deep in my heart as my brow.

" Let the young and the brilliant aspire

To sing, while I gaze on in vain ;
For sorrow has torn from my lyre
The string which was worthy the strain."

Answer by Lady Blessington :

" When I asked for averse, pray believe

'Twas not vanity urged the desire ;
For no more can my mirror deceive,
No more can I poets inspire.

" Time has touched with rude fingers my brow,

And the roses have fled from my cheek,
And it surely were folly if now

I the praise due to beauty should seek.

" And as pilgrims who visit the shrine
Of some saint bear a relic away,

254 LINES ADDRESSED TO LADY BLESSINGTON

I sought a memorial of thine,

As a treasure when distant I stray.

" Oh ! say not that lyre is unstrung,

Whose chords can such rapture bestow,
Or that mute is that magical tongue
From which music and poetry flow.

" And though sorrow, ere youth yet has fled,

May have altered thy locks' jetty hue,
The rays that encircle thy head

Hide the ravaging marks from our vieiv."

Lines of Lord Ersldne for an inscription for a collar of a lap-
dog of the Countess of Blessington :

" Whoever finds and don't forsake me,
Shall have naught in way of gains ;
But let him to my mistress take me,
And he shall see her for his pains."

Note accompanying lines to Lady Blessington, by Thomas
Moore :

" Sloperton, February 19th, 1834.

" MY DEAR LADY BLESSINGTON, — When persons like you condescend so to
ask, how are poor poets to refuse 1 At the same time, I confess I have a hor
ror of albumizing, annualizing, periodic alizing, which my one inglorious sur
render (and for base money too) to that Triton of literature, Marryatt, has but
the more confirmed me in. At present, what with the weather and my his
tory, I am chilled into a man of mere prose. But as July approaches, who
knows but I may thaw into songl and though — as O'Connell has a vow
registered in heaven against pistols, so /have against periodicals, yet there
are few, I must say, who could be more likely to make a man break this (or
any other) vow than yourself, if you thought it worth your while.

" And so, with this gallant speech, which, from a friend of a quarter of a
century's date, is not, I flatter myself, to be despised, I am, my dear Lady
Blessington, most truly yours, THOMAS MOORE."

" What shall I sing thec 1 Shall I tell
Of that bright hour, remember'd well
As though it shone but yesterday,
When, as I loitered in the ray
Of the warm sun, I heard o'erhead
My name, as by some spirit, said,
And looking up, saw two bright eyes
Above me from a casement shine,

BY VARIOUS PERSONS. 255

" Dazzling the heart with such surprise
As they who sail beyond the Line
Feel, when new stars above them rise 1
And it was thine — the voice that spoke,
Like Ariel's, in the blue air then ;
And thine the eyes, whose lustre broke,
Never to be forgot again !

" What shall I sing thee 1 Shall I weave
A song of that sweet summer eve
(Summer, of which the sunniest part
Was that which each had in the heart),
When thou, and I, and one like thee
In life and beauty, to the sound
Of our own breathless minstrelsy,*
Danced till the sunlight faded round,
Ourselves the whole ideal ball —
Lights, music, company, and alii"

Verses for an album, written at the request of the Countess
of Blessington, by George Colman.

1.

" How have I sworn — and sworn so deep,
No more to put my friends to sleep

By writing crambo for 'em !
Rhymes my amusement once I made,
When Youth and Folly gave me aid,
But since they have become my trade,
I must, of course, abhor 'em.

2.

" Entirely generous Mr. Thrale,
Who sold brown stout, and haply ale,

Was always fond of giving,
Of whom Sam Johnson said one day,
' Thrale would give any thing away,
Rather than porter, I dare say,
By which he makes his living.'

3.

" Yet the allusion holds not here —
Mine is but Poetry's small beer,

And every line will show it :
Thrale brewed more potent stuff, I ween,

* " I believe it was to a piper ; but it sounds more poetical to say, to our own
singing."

256 LINES ADDRESSED TO LADY BLESSINGTON

From Thames, than I from Hippocrene,
So there's no parallel between
The brewer and the poet.

4.

" Still, why again be scribbling ! List !
There is a pair I can't resist,

'Tis now no drudging duty,
The Blessingtons demand my strain,
And who records against the grain,
His sparkling converse and champagne,
And her more sparkling beauty 1

5.

" But hold ! I fear my prudence sleeps,
Her ladyship an Album keeps,

Whose leaves, though I ne'er spied 'em,
Are graced with verse from wits profess'd,
Bards by Apollo highly bless'd ;
No doubt they've done their very best,
How shall I look beside 'em 1

6.

" Dare I, in lame and silly pride,
Hobble where Rogers loves to glide 1

Whose sweetly simple measure
Make enviers of Genius mad,
Delight the moral, soothe the sad,
Give human life a zest, and add
To Memory' 's greatest pleasures.

7.

" Or if I venture, cheek by jowl,
With the Anacreontic soul,

That master, to a tittle,
Of elegant erotic lore,
Then they, who my weak page explore,
Will reckon me much less than More,
Not half so Great as Little.

8.

" Well, well, no matter ; still, I feel
My talent's dearth supplied by zeal ;

Away, then, base dejection !
This scrawl, whate'er its want of wit,
If Lady Blessington think fit,
So very much to honor it,

May rest in her collection." 1st August, 1819.

BY VARIOUS PERSONS. 257

Note accompanying lines to Lady Blessington, by F. Mills,

Esq.:

" 57 Audley Street.

" MY DEAR LADY BLESSINGTON, — I send you my verses ; they were written
for you, but I was unwilling to present them, in the fear that you would not
pass the threshold of the title. That you may not do now ; but still, as they
are registered in my book as having been composed at your request, I think
it right that you should see them. I have no better excuse for myself. If
you will not read them, nobody else will.

" Ever yours sincerely, F. MILLS."

CHARACTERISTIC— THE ROSE OR THE VIOLET.
A cause pleaded in Italy.

" I saw a violet droop its head ;

"Tis strange, and yet it seem'd in grief,
And there, from nature's book, I read
A tale of sorrow in the leaf.

" A tear as in the eye would stand,

The cheek was of a livid hue ;
The form was bow'd by some rude hand,
And for its fragrance bruised too.

" There was a canker in that cell,

The secret source of many a woe,

Of deep remorse those lips would tell,

Or — never had they quiver'd so.

" She loved, 'twas in the soil or clime,

In every flower, in every field —
Her earliest lesson, only crime ;

And one so soft was form'd to yield.

" But near her, late transplanted there,
A rose was glittering in the light ;
It grew not in its native air,

And yet it seemed to bloom as bright.

" And though it played with every wind

As willing as the blushing morn,

Who thought to gather it would find

'Twas always guarded by a thorn.

" 'Twas Anglia's boast, and well I trow,

A badge for which her sons had bled,
Had many a life's spring caused to flow,
And widow'd many a bridal bed.

258 LINES ADDRESSED TO LADY BLESSINGTON

" And though its bloom may pass away,

Or fade beneath the coming hour,
'Twill still be fragrant in decay,

Not rankle, like that bruised flower."

A note, rather idolatrously complimentary, addressed to Lady
Blessington. No signature, no date, with lines written on leav
ing Naples, and said to be " translated into French :"

TRADUCTION.

"Si ce n'etait pas un culte uniquement reserve au Dieu que nous adorons,
de bruler de 1'encens sur ses autels ; 1'univers s'empresserait de t'offrir ces
honneurs. Alors nuit et jour j'entretiendrais ce feu de mes mains, et un
nuage epais de parfum s'eleverait jusqu'aux cieux. Mais puisque cela m'est
interdit, que je puisse, au moins t'offrir cet encens sacre, que je brulerais pour
toi, si j'etais payen.

TRADUCTION.
" Adieu terre classique, adieu ciel sans nuages,

Adieu dignes amis, vous dont le souvenir

Vient s'unir dans mon coeur aux charmes de ses rivages,

Je songe avec douleur ! helas ! qu'il faut partir

Doux amis ! doux climat que j'aime et que j'admirc.

Quel enivrant tableau vous formiez reunis

L'un et 1'autre a 1'envi sembliez me sourire ;

Mais le sort me 1'ordonne . . il le faut . . je vous fuis

La Syrenc, disais-je, un moment abregee

Vit Naples et mourut, et j'envirais son sort

Mais plaignons la plutot, jamais apres sa mort

A-t-elle peut trouver un plus doux Elisee ]

Vous enchantez encore les sens du voyageur,

Parthenope en ce jour a plus d'une Syrene,

Que de fois les accens de Lisette et d'Irene,

Ont charme mes instants, ont cnivre mon coeur.

Adieu tendres amis ! dans ma froide patrie

L'image du bonheur qu'en ces terns j'ai goute

Viendra toujours s'ofirir a mon ame attendrie

Avec le pur eclat de ce cicl enchante/'

Lines by James Smith, in a letter addressed to Lady Bless
ington, dated November 10, 1836 :

GORE HOUSE— AN IMPROMPTU.
" Mild Wilberforce, by all beloved,
Once own'd this hallow'd spot,

BY VARIOUS%PERSONS. 359

Whose zealous eloquence improved

The fetter'd Negro's lot ;
Yet here still slavery attacks

When Blessingtoii invites ;
The chains from which he freed the Blacks,

She rivets on the Whites.

"27 Craven Street, Tuesday."

Note accompanying lines to Lady Blessington, by Jas. Smith :

"27 Craven Street, Friday, December 9, 1836.

" DEAR LADY BLESSINGTON, — ' Gore House' has awakened another (anony
mous) muse ; I wonder who it can be.

" Your ladyship's faithful and devoted servant, JAMES SMITH."

A more deliberate reply to the Impromptu :
" No, not the chains which erst he broke

Does Blessington impose,
Light is her burden, soft her yoke,
No pain her captive knows.

" The slave by galling fetters bruised,

By force his will subdued ;
Obedience of the mind refused,
With haste his tyrant viewed.

" On willing hearts her bonds are thrown,

Her charms her empire prove ;
Pleased with their fate, the captives own
No power but that of love."

Lines to the Countess of Blessington, by James Smith :

"July 11, 1832.
" The Bird of Paradise, that flies

O'er blest Arabia's plains,
Devoid of feet, forbears to rise,
And where she rests, remains.

" Like her of footing reft, I fain

Would seek your bless'd dominions,
And there content, till death, remain,
But ah ! I lack the pinions."

" Admiralty, May 6, 1820.

" DEAR LADY BLESSINGTON, — I have received from Lord Blessington your
commands for the third time. I beg pardon for having been so tardy ; but
the inclosed will show that I have, at last, implicitly and literally obeyed you.

" I have the honor to be, dear Lady Blessington, your very faithful serv
ant. J. W. CROKER."

260 LINES ADDRESSED TO LADY BLESSINGTON

" You've asked me three times
For four lines with two rhymes ;
Too long I've delayed,
But at last you're obeyed !"

Letter of T. Stewart, Esq., inclosing lines written in Naples,
addressed to Lady Blessington :

" Palais Belvidere, Naples, Monday.

" MY DEAR MADAM, — Although these lines can only prove the good wishes
and intentions of their author, I hope you will not be displeased at receiving
them.

" My uncle* refused your kind invitation with great regret yesterday, but
he is so lame at present that he can scarcely walk. He is likewise, in some
degree, alarmed about himself.

" With my best wishes to Miss Power and to D'Orsay, I remain your lady
ship's, most sincerely, T. STEWART."

Lines addressed to Marguerite, Countess of Blessington, on
her leaving Naples, spring, 1826, in consequence of the climate
injuring her health :

1.
" 'Tis vain that the rose and the myrtle are twining

In wreaths that the Graces intended for thee ;

For thou wilt be far when their blossom is pining,

Unseen in the grove, and unculled on the tree.

2.
" The light step of spring o'er the mountains is bounding,

The nymphs are returned to the fountains again ;
The woods with the nightingale's notes are resounding,
Yet sadness through all thy lone precincts shall reign.

3.

" Though forests of citron the mountains are shading,
Though hues like the rainbow's enamel the vale,
The flower that is fairest is secretly fading,
For sickness is wafted to thee on the gale.

4.

" Alas ! that in climes where all nature is gladdest,

Her charms, like the visions of youth, should deceive ;
Of the tears at thy parting, those tears will be saddest,
That, grieving for thee, we for nature must grieve."

* Sir William Gell.

BY VARIOUS PERSONS. 261

Lines inclosed in a letter of Mr. N. P. "Willis to Lady Bless-
ington, April 2, 1840 :

" The music of the waken'd lyre

Dies not within the quivering strings,
Nor burn'd alone the minstrel's fire

Upon the lip that trembling sings ;
Nor shines the moon in heaven unseen,

Nor shuts the flower its fragrant cells,
Nor sleeps the fountain's wealth, I ween ;

Forever in its sparry wells
The charms of the enchanter lie,
Not in his own lone heart, his own rapt ear and eye.
" I gaze upon a face as fair

As ever made a lip of heaven
Falter amid its music — prayer ;

The first lit star of summer even
Springs scarce so softly on the eye,

Nor grows with watching half so bright,
Nor mid its sisters of the sky

So seems of heaven the dearest light.
Men murmur where that shape is seen,
' My youth's angelic dream was of that form and mien.'
" Yet, though we deem the stars are bless'd,

And envy in our grief the flower
That bears but sweetness in its breast,

And praise the enchanter for his power,
And love the minstrel for the spell

He winds from out his lyre so well ;
The starlight doth the wanderer bless,
The lyre the listener's tears beguile,
And, lady, in the loveliness

Doth light to-day that radiant smile,
A lamp is lit in beauty's eye,
That souls, else lost on earth, remember angels by !"

Copy of verses, signed Fitzgerald. Addressed to Lady Bless-
ington, on Literary Taste. u ^ ^ m&

" Through wide creation's ample round,
Where'er her varying forms are found,
The landscape deck'd with nature's dyes,
The boundless sea, o'er-arching skies,
The waving wood, the winding shore,
The tranquil lake or torrent's roar,

262 LINES ADDRESSED TO LADY BLESSINGTON

The modest valley, far withdrawn,

Or the proud cliff or laughing lawn ;

These all can please, yet none to me

Such soothing charm conveys as minds refined and free.

" Let goblets shine on festal board,
And lavish art exhaust her hoard
To raise the soul or warm the heart,
And a new zest to life impart ;
How vain the pomp, the wealth how poor,
Worthless as gold on Indian floor,
Unless the grace of mind preside,
To soften down the glare of pride ;
With magic touch the feast refine,
Wreathe bays round pleasure's cup, to nectar turn his wine.

" 'Mid darker scenes, in sorrow's hour,
Taste comes with softly soothing pow'r ;
Sheds a mild radiance through the gloom,
And shades with silver wings the tomb !
Strews roses o'er the waste of time,
And lulls the anguish of his crime
'Gainst love and hope, whose precious buds
He cuts, and casts them on the floods !
So drops an anodyne t' endure
Those deep and trenchant wounds which it can never cure !

" Oh ! thus amid the dream of joy,
Or trance of grief, can taste employ
Those hours that else to riot run,
Or waste in sadness with each sun !
Should Beauty lend her smile to Wit,
And Learning by her star be lit,
As gems beneath the solar ray
Are ripened and enriched with day ;
How bless 'd the happy pow'r we prove !
Then bright Minerva shines in Blcssington with love."

Verses inclosed in a letter of John Kenyon, Esq., to Lady
Blessington, Paris, 15th June, 1810 :

ITALY.

" Fair blows the breeze : depart ! depart !
And tread with me the Italian shore,
And feed thy soul with glorious art,
And drink again of classic lore

BY VARIOUS PERSONS. 263

" Nor haply wilt thou deem it wrong,

When not in mood too gravely wise,
At idle length to lie along,

And quatf a bliss from bluest skies.

" Or pleased more pensive joy to woo,

At falling eve, by ruin gray,
Move o'er the generations who

Have passed, as we must pass, away.

" Or mark, o'er olive-tree and vine,

Steep towns uphung, to win from them
Some thought of Southern Palestine,

Some dream of old Jerusalem. J. K."

Lines written by R. Bernal, Esq. :

TO LADY BLESSINGTON.
" When wintry winds in wild career
Howl requiems for the by-gone year,
And thought, responding to the blast,
With sighs reviews the gloomy past ;
Where every sorrow leaves its trace,
And joy obtains no resting-place ;
When, sickening from the dull survey,
Hope, warmth, and energy decay,
What mortal charm can then impart
A ray of sunshine to the heart,
And by its healing balm dispense
New vigor to each failing sense 1
On one bright charm alone depend,
The feeling of a genuine friend,
Whose ready sympathy sincere,
The graces of her mind endear
To those who are allowed to share
Her kindly thoughts, her gen'rous care
Dear lady ! cruel time, I feel,
May from my pen refinement steal :
Should language fail me to express
The grateful thanks I would confess,
Believe me that the words of truth
Bear in themselves perpetual youth."

R. BERNAL, January 2d, 1849.

From J. H. Jesse, Esq., 20th March, 1840 :

264 LINES ADDRESSED TO LADY BLESSINGTON

" In your gay favored leaves I am ordered to write,

Where wit on poetical verdure reposes ;
But I fear I shall prove, in those pages so bright,

To use the count's phrase, like a pig among roses.
" Should this lay, in your book, with the verses entwine
Of painters, bards, sculptors, blue-ribbons, and earls,
Instead of the pearls being thrown among swine,

I fear that the swine will be thrown among pearls.
" But should you find room in your splendid parterre

Of fancy and wit for a slave so devout,
Though a pig among flow'rs is a sight rather rare,

At least he's an excellent hand at a rout.
" In pity accept this nonsensical lay

Instead of my promised historical lore ;
I but wish to escape from the grave to the gay,

Lest the pig, to your sorrow, should turn out a boar.
" But your ' wonderful pig' must give over his feats,

And endeavor to quench his poetical fire,
Lest, striving to enter a garden of sweets,

In the end he should find himself sunk in the mire.

"J. H. JESSE."

THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON'S SOIREE.
" By genius enlivened, here splendidly bright
Are the rays which adorn and embellish her ' night !'
While ' the nine' shed their influence down from above,
To unite taste and wit with the charms of ' the grove.'

"OCTOGENAKIUS.*
" Mount Radford, Exeter."

IMPROMPTU.— ON A SMALL VOLUME OF POEMS BEING PLACED IN THE
LIBRARY OF LADY BLESSINGTON.

" What ' earthly' was before, is now 'divine ;'
Minerva's priestess placed it in her shrine.

" OCTOGENARIUS.

"Exeter, September 10th, 1842."

Lines addressed to Lady Blessington (no name or date) :
" .Some dear friend a present has made me

Of an instrument armed like a dart ;
But the warning of witches forbade me
To use it secundum the art.

* The writer occasionally signed his letters to Lady Blessington, and his nu
merous poetical effusions, " Pilgrim." Mount Radford, I think, near Exeter, was
the name of a property of one of the Barings some thirty years ago.

BY VARIOUS PERSONS. 265

" It may be by some fairy designed,

A blow aimed through my lips at my heart ;
Ah ! my heart has already resigned,

And my lips claimed their share of the smart !"

Inclosed in a letter of Dr. "VV. Beattie :

THE CLOSING YEAR.
" Cosi trapassa — a'l trapassar' d'un giorno."
" Could time contract the heart

As time contracts our years,
I'd weep, to see my days depart,
In undissembled tears.

" But no ! the mind expands

As time pursues its flight,
And sheds upon our ebbing sands
A sweeter, holier light.

"If time could steel the breast

To human weal or woe,
Then would I long to be at rest,
And deem it time to go.

" But no ! while I can cheer

One sad or stricken heart,
Unreckoned let my days appear,
Unmourned let them depart.

"Time, reckoned by our deeds,
And not by length of days,
Is often blessed where it speeds —
Unbless'd where it delays.

" But oh ! when deaf to human sighs,

When dead to human woes,
Then drop the curtain ! close my eyes,

And leave me to repose !
4 December 30, 1840."

P.S.
" Such, lady, is the creed

Thy gifted pen has taught,
And well the daily-practiced deed
Gives body to the thought.

" Thy mind's an intellectual fount

Where genius plumes her wing,
And fancy's flowers, like Eden's bowers,

Enjoy perennial spring !"
VOL. T.— M

-266 LINES ADDRESSED TO LADY BLESSINGTON

Lines of Dr. Win. Beattie to the Countess of Blessington, on
perusing " The Book of Beauty" for 1839 :
" As Dian, 'mid yon isles of light,
"With starry train illumes the region,
So, lady, here, with eyes as bright,
Thou lead'st abroad thy starry legion.
All marshaled in thy brilliant book,
"What fascinations fix the reader !
Ah ! when had stars so bright a look,
Or when had beauty such a leader !

" And gazing on that starry train,
In each methinks I see the token
Of conquests won, of suitors slain,
Of heads they've turned, and hearts they've broken.
Lady, thy task is nobly done ;
Who else could have performed the duty '
Where find, unless in Blessington,
The synonym for wit and beauty '!
" Xov. 7th, 1838."

Lines " SA 1'Arabe," to Lady Blessington, by an Eastern trav
eler :

•' If e'er the price of tinder rise,

To smoking as I'm given,
I'll light my pipe at your bright eye^,
And steal my fire from heaven.

" In Paynim climes, when forced to sip

Cold water through devotion,
I'd think the cup had touched your lip,
To nectarize my potion.

" If dread simoom swept o'er my tent,

I'd call hack scenes enchanting :
On blissful hours in Naples spent.
And your abode descanting.

" In that eclipse which lately threw

Half Naples into terror,
When it was very clear Unit you
Had breathed upon your mirror ;

" Tn antres vast and desert wild,

With jackals screaming round me,
I'd dream of you when toil and fright
' Tn slumber's chain hud bound me.'

BY VARIOUS PERSONS. 267

" I'd fancy beauty's queen, arrayed

In smiles, was watching o'er me ;
And, waking, find the picture laid

Of Lady B before me. R R M

"Rome, Feb., 1828."

From Mrs. P s to Lady Blcssington, St. James's Square :

•• In this frigid season of stupefied spleen,
October, when nothing goes down but the queen"
(Though lately her majesty seems to get up),
»So oft is the slip 'twixt the lip and the cup,
Methinks it were proper, of one of my trips
By sea, in the steam vessel call'd the Eclipse,
I with pen, ink, and paper, and table and chair,
Indite to my who lives in the square.

*: Oh say what philosopher found out in steam,
That wonderful property stemming a stream :
It could not be Locke, for a lock dams the splasher ;
It could not be Bacon, that makes sailors rasher.
It is not »SVr Isaac the vessel that urges,
Though certainly eyes acJic when looking on surges :
Descartes sounds more like it ; for Gallican art
Moves over the waves by assistance dcs cartes :
No ! now I remember : the man who by toil
Of noddle, and midnight consumption of oil,
First hit upon steam, was Philosopher Boyle.

" This learned discussion has made me forget:
Proceed we to sing of our voyage from Margate.
As the clock sounded eight, I myself and my maiden
(Having coiFee'd at Broadstairs), with bandboxes laden,
Both spurning the pier, and the coast out of reach of
(If spurning a Peer should be privilege breach of,
Keep this to yourself, and if sworn on the Bible,
Lest the Lords, in a rage, should commit for the libel),
Embark'd on the main, which, erst tranquil and steady,
.Soon heaved, like the tragical chest of Macready.
One Mr. Mac-Donald on board also came
(Related, I'm told, to the lord of that name),
And Smith, christened James : of the whole of the crew,
These twain were the only two people I knew.

* The Queen Caroline. This poetical epistle is not dated ; but, as Lady Bless-
ington was not living in St. James's Square after 1822, nor previous to 1816, the
epistle must have been written in the interval.

LINES ADDRESSED TO LADY BLESSINGTON.

I straight introduced both these voyagers witli
'Mr. Smith, Mr. Mac — Mr. Mac, Mr. Smith ;'
We then talk'd a trio, harmonious together,
Of Naples, and Spain, and the queen, and the weather,
Of Margate, its windmills, its balls, and of raffles,
Of misses in curls, and of donkeys in snaffles :
In gay sprightly pace, though I sing it in dull verso,
Then pass'd the two steeples they call the Reculvers,
When, finding Dan Phoebus preparing to unshine.
We entered the cabin and ordered a luncheon.
But ere we went down, I forgot to inform
Your ladyship, Jupiter pour'd down a storm.
Smith raised his umbrella, my kid leather shoes,
Unused to such scenes, were beginning to ooze.
When a German, who look'd at me, all in a float,
Most civilly lent me his wrapping great-coat.
Thus muffled, while Iris poured rain from her window,
I looked like a sylph keeping watch on Belinda.
I laugh'd at the tempest this tunic of drab in,
But laid it aside when we enter'd the cabin.
There hanging my straw bonnet up on a peg,
Sitting down on a stool with a rickety leg,
And doffing my shawl to sit down to my meal,
I flatter myself I look'd rather genteel.
Smith sat with each leg on the side of a column.
Which check'd him in eating, and made him look solemn.
So, hastily quitting our scats when we all had
Sufficient cold lamb, beef, potatoes, and salad,
I went upon deck, and when seated upon it,
I put on again my drab wrapper and bonnet.
A woman and daughter had borrowed the streamer
That floats, red and white, from the stern of the stoainor •
This form'd a deck-tent, and from Jupiter's thunder it
Guarded us safely ; 'twas nothing to wonder at,
For ' non mi ricordo' that any slept under it !
When qualms (not of conscience) seized one of the crew,
To a berth near the chimney I quickly withdrew,
And beat with my right foot the devil's tattoo.
Of one of our minstrels, an Irish Pan d re an,
I asked if that ocean was call'd the ./Egean ;
If it was not, old (Juthrie was born to confound mo,
For /'// swear that the cyc-ladcs* circled around me.
We pass'd on our left the four hanging Lascars,
Who peep at the moon and keep watch at the stars ;
* Two sir-k ladies.

NOTICE OF COUNT ALFRED D'ORSAY. 359

Just opposite South-end we plump'd on a porpoise,
Uncommonly like Stephen Kemble in corpus ;
In temper like Gerard, whose surname is Noel,
In swimming like Twiss, and in color like Powell.
And when we were properly soak'd, at the hour
Of five, anchored safely athwart of the Tower.

" The scene that ensued when we swung by a cable,
The mixture of voices out-babeling Babel —
What scrambling for bandboxes, handkerchiefs, caskets,
Trunks, carpet bags, brown paper parcels, and baskets,
While the captain stood quietly wetting his whistle,
Must all be reserved for another epistle,
For my paper scrawled o'er is of no further service.

" Adieu, your affectionate ever, E. P s."

CHAPTER XIII.

NOTICE OF COUNT ALFRED D'oRSAY '. HIS ORIGIN. SOME AC
COUNT OF HIS EARLY LIFE, THE CLOSE OF HIS CAREER, AND OB
SERVATIONS ON HIS TALENTS AND THE APPLICATION OF THEM.*

ALFRED GUILLAUME GABRIEL COMTE D'ORSAY was born the
4th of September, 1801. His father, Albert Comtc D'Orsay,
who was considered one of the finest-looking men of his time,
early entered the army, and served with great distinction under
Napoleon, who was wont to say of him that he was " aussi brave
qut beau.'" His mother, a woman no less remarkable for her
wit, and noble and generous disposition, than for her beauty, was
a daughter of the King of Wurtemberg by a marriage which was
good in religion, though not in law. The family of D'Orsay was
a very ancient one, and formerly held large possessions both in
Paris and in the provinces. The grandfather of the late Comte
D'Orsay was one of the most liberal patrons of art of his day.
His collection of pictures and statues was singularly fine and
valuable. Several of the latter, which were seized in the first
revolution, that disastrous period when he lost nearly the whole
of his fortune, now form a part of the statuary which decorates
* For a large portion of the details of this memoir, extending to the period of
D'Orsay's last sojourn in Paris, I am indebted to a lady very intimately acquainted
with the count in his brighter days, as well as in his latest moments.

270 NOTICE OF COUNT ALFRED D'ORSAY.

the Place Louis Q,uinze and the gardens of the Tuilleries. The
fact of their belonging to the house of D'Orsay was admitted by
subsequent governments. Louis Philippe, only a short time be
fore his expulsion from France, was in treaty with Comte D'Or
say to pay an annual sum to retain the statues in their present
places, having refused to restore them. After the abdication of
Napoleon, General D'Orsay entered the service of the Bourbons.

The eldest son of the general having died in infancy, the fam-
ily consisted of two children — Alfred and a daughter, Ida, the
present Duchcsse de Grammont, a year younger than her brother.
From his earliest infancy, Alfred D'Orsay gave token of the re
markable physical and mental superiority which distinguished
his manhood. As a child and boy, his remarkable comeliness,
strength, and adroitness in all exercises, ready wit and intelli
gence, facility of acquiring knowledge, high spirit, the frankness
of his nature, the chivalrous generosity of his disposition, made
him a general favorite with young and old.

At a very early age he entered the army, and somewhat later,
very unwilling]}', the garde da corps of the restored Bourbon
sovereign. All his sympathies during the whole of his life
were with the Bonaparte family. The ardent enthusiasm in
spired in his boyish mind by Napoleon (whose page he was to
have been) kept possession of his mind in after years. So far
was the feeling carried, that at the entrance of the Bourbons
into Paris, though but a mere boy, he betook himself to a retired
part of the house, that he might not see or hear the rejoicings
that were made for the downfall of Napoleon and his empire,
and gave vent to his feelings in tears and strong expressions of
repugnance to the new regime. \Vhen in the army, he was
greatly beloved by the men. whose comfort!? and interests he
looked to with the utmost care. Their nlleclion for his person
was equaled only by the admiration excited by his feats of
strength and superiority over his comrades in all manly exer
cises.

Some of the traits of his garrison life, though trifling ill them
selves, are too characteristic to be left unnoticed. At the pro
vincial balls, where his repute as a man of fashion, of family,

NOTICE OF COUNT ALFRED D'ORSAY.

271

and of various accomplishments had made itself known, and ren
dered him a leading object of attention ; he used to be jeered
by his brother officers for his apparent predilection for persons
not remarkable for their personal attractions, as he made it a
practice to single out the plainest girls present to dance with,
and to pay the greatest attention to those who seemed most neg
lected or unnoticed. There was no affectation of any kind about
him ; whatever he did that appeared considerate or amiable was
done simply from natural kindness of disposition.

On one occasion, living out of barracks, he lodged at the house
of a widow with a son and two daughters ; the son, a young, ro
bust man of a violent temper and of considerable bodily strength,
was in the habit of treating his mother and sisters with brutal
ity. Comte D'Orsay, one day while in his room, hearing a loud
noise and tumult in the apartments of his hostess and her daugh
ters on the ground floor, descended to ascertain the cause, and
finding the young man offering acts of violence to his mother,
fell upon him, and notwithstanding the powerful resistance of
his formidable opponent, wrhose rage had been turned against
him, inflicted such severe chastisement on him that quarter was
soon called for. The count then, with his characteristic quie
tude of manner in the midst of any excitement or turmoil, ended
the scene by assuring the subdued bully that any repetition of
his violence on his family would meet with punishment far ex
ceeding in severity that which he had the trouble of bestowing
on that occasion.

Comte D'Orsay's first visit to England was in the year 1821
or 1822. He came in company with his sister and her husband,
then Due de Guiche, who, in the previous emigration, had been
educated and brought up in England, had served in an English
regiment (of dragoons), and who had a sister married to the
Viscount Ossulston, now Earl of Tankerville ; consequently, the
Duke de Guiche already held a position in English society cal
culated to insure the best reception for his brother-in-law in the
first circles of London society.

In that visit, which was but brief, the young count, accustom
ed to manners and customs of a world of fashion differing very

272 NOTICE OF COUNT ALFRED D'ORSAY.

materially from that of London, formed that hasty judgment of
English society, erroneous in the main, hut in its application to
a portion of it not without a certain "basis of truth. Byron's eu
logistic expressions on the perusal of the journal could not fail
to be very gratifying to the writer of it. Bufr the riper judg
ment and later experience of the count led to the formation of
other opinions, and induced him to destroy the diary, and the
reason given for its destruction was '; lest at any time the ideas
there expressed should be put forth as his matured opinions."
Byron, in a letter to Moore, dated April 2, 1823, thus refers to
the arrival at Genoa of the Blcssingtons and the Count D'Orsay,
a French count, " who has all the air of a cupidon dcchaine, and
is one of the few specimens I have ever seen of our ideal of a
Frenchman before the Revolution."

To Lord Blessington his lordship writes :

" April 5th, 1823.

"Mv DEAR LORD, — How is your gout] or, rather, how are you] I return
the Count D'Orsay's journal, which is a very extraordinary production, and of
a most melancholy truth in all that regards high life in England. I know, or
knew personally, most of the personages and societies which he describes ;
and after reading his remarks, have the sensation fresh upon me as if I had
.seen them yesterday. I would, however, plead in behalf of some few excep
tions, which I will mention by-and-by. The most singular thing is, how he
should have penetrated, not the facts, but the mystery of the English ennui, at
two-and-twenty. I was about the same age when I made the same discov
ery, in almost precisely the same circles — for there is scarcely a person whom
I did not see nightly or daily, and was acquainted more or less intimately with
most of them — but I never could have discovered it so well, II faut ctre Fran-
fais to effect this. But he ought alwo to have been in the country during the
hunting season, with a ' select party of distinguished guests,' as the papers
term it. He ought to have seen the gentlemen after dinner (on the hunting
days), and the soiree ensuing thereupon, and the women looking as if they
had hunted, or rather been hunted ; and I could have wished that he had been
at a dinner in town, which I recollect at Lord Cowper's — small, but select,

and composed of the most amusing people Altogether, your friend's

journal is a very formidable production. Alas ! our dearly beloved country
men have only discovered that they are tired, and not that they are tiresome ;
and I suspect that the communication of the latter unpleasant verity will not
be better received than truths usually arc. I have read the whole with great
attention and instruction — I am too good a patriot to say pleasure — at least T
won't say so, whatever I may think. I showed it (I hope no breach of conn-

NOTICE OF COUNT ALFRED D'ORSAY. 273

dence) to a young Italian lady of rank, trcs instruite also ; and who passes,
or passed, for being one of the most celebrated belles in the district of Italy
where her family and connections resided in less troublesome times as to pol
itics (which is not Genoa, by-the-way), and she was delighted with it, and
says that she has derived a better notion of English society from it than from
all Madame de StaeTs metaphysical disputations on the same subject in her
work on the Revolution. I beg that you will thank the young philosopher,

and make my compliments to Lady 13 and her sister.

" Believe me, your very obliged and faithful, BYRON."

Ill subsequent letters to Lord Blcssington, Byron repeatedly
returns to the subject of the count's English journal. One writ
ten on the 6th of April (the very day after that before quoted),
to condole with the Earl of Blessington on the death of his only
son, thus concludes : " I beg my compliments to Lady Blessing-
ton, Miss Power, and to your Alfred. I think, since his majesty
of the same name, there has not been such a learned surveyor
of our Saxon, society." Again, on the 9th, "I salute the illus
trious Chevalier Count D'Orsay, who, I hope, will continue his
History of His Own Times. There are some strange coinci
dences between a part of his remarks and a certain work of
mine now in MS. in England (I do not mean the hermetically-
sealed memoirs, but a continuation of certain cantos of a certain
poem), especially in what a man may do in London with impu
nity while he is a la mode." And in a letter which Mr. Moore
did not print at length, Byron said of D'Orsay, " He seems to
have all the qualities requisite to have figured in his brother-in-
law's ancestor's Memoirs" — alluding to the famous Memoirs of
Grammont.

Byron's approbation of D'Orsay 's diary was given in the fol
lowing characteristic terms :

"April 22, 1823. — My dear Count D'Orsay (if you will per
mit me to address you so familiarly), you should be content with
writing in your own language, like Grammont, and succeeding in
London as nobody has succeeded since the days of Charles the
Second, and the records of Antonio Hamilton, without deviating
into our barbarous language, which you understand and write,
however, much better than it deserves. ' My approbation,' as
you are pleased to term it. was very sincere, but perhaps not

M :/

274 NOTICE OF COUNT ALFRED D'ORSAY.

very impartial ; for, though I love my country, I do not love my
countrymen — at least, such as they now are. And besides the
seduction of talent arid wit in your work, I fear that to me there
was the attraction of vengeance. I have seen and felt much of
what you have described so well. I have known the persons
and the reunions described (many of them, that is to say), and
the portraits arc so like, that I can not but admire the painter
no less than his performance. But I am sorry for you ; for if
you are so well acquainted with life at your age, what will be
come of you when the illusion is still more dissipated ?"

The illusion was wholly dissipated, but only a few months
before D'Orsay's death.

On the 6th of May following, his lordship writes to Lady
Blessington :

" I have a request to make my friend Alfred (since he has not
disdained the title), viz., that he would condescend to add a cap
to the gentleman in the jacket — it would complete his costume,
and smooth his brow, which is somewhat too inveterate a like
ness of the original, God help me !"

The diary of Count D'Orsay, illustrative of London fashion
able life, which was pronounced by such competent authority to
be equal to any thing Count de Grammont has left us about con
temporary frivolity, is said by others to have surpassed the me
moirs of the latter in genuine wit and humor.

The Duchesse de Grammont has the papers of Count D'Or
say, and a portion of the effects ; most of the latter were sold to
pay debts. His journal was burned by himself some years back.

It was on the occasion of D'Orsay's first visit to London that
he made the acquaintance of Lord and Lady Blessington, not in
garrison in France, as has generally but erroneously been stated ;
neither is the assertion true that it was to accompany them to
Italy that he abandoned the intention of joining the expedition
to ypain, there being no question of his doing so at the period
of that visit.

> _At the earnest desire of Lord and Lady Blessington, the young
Frenchman became one of the party in their tour through France
mid Ttaly. During thoir jouruoy nnrl prolonged sojourn in the

NOTICE OF COUNT ALFRED D'QRSAY. 275

latter country, the companionable qualities, and that peculiar
power of making himself agreeable, which he possessed to a
degree almost unequaled, so endeared him to his English friends,
that a union was at length proposed by Lord Blessing-ton be
tween the count and one of his daughters, both of whom were
then in Ireland with Lady Harriet Gardiner, the sister of Lord
Blessington.

This proposition meeting the approval of the count's family,
it was finally decided that Lady Harriette, the younger daugh
ter, should become his wife, and she was accordingly sent for to
Italy, where the marriage was celebrated.*

After a long Continental tour, and a sojourn of some years in
Italy, Lord and Lady Blessington, with the Count and Countess
D'Orsay, came to reside in Paris, where, in 1829, Lord Blessing-
ton died of apoplexy.

During the Revolution of 1830, the events of which are related
by Lady Blessington in the '; Idler in France," Count D'Orsay,
during the most dangerous moments, was constantly abroad in
the streets ; and on more than one occasion, when recognized,
though known to be the brother-in-law of the Due de Guiche,
one of the staunchest of the Legitimists, he was greeted by
the people with shouts of" Vive le Comte D'Orsay /" Such was
the influence which his mere presence produced. One of the
proofs of the effect on others of his insinuating manners and pre
possessing appearance was the extreme affection and confidence
he inspired in children, of whom he was very fond, but who
usually seemed as if they were irresistibly drawn toward him,
even before he attempted to win them. The shyest and most
reserved were no more proof against this influence than the

* We find in the " Annual Register" for 183f an account of the marriage cere
mony having been performed at Naples by the chaplain of the British cmbassa-
dor. "At Naples, in December 1827, Count Alfred D'Orsay, only son of General
Count D'Orsay, to the Lady Harriette Anne Frances Gardiner, daughter of the
Right Hon. the Earl of Blessington." Of this unhappy marriage an account has
been given in the preceding memoir, and the sentiments of the author in regard
to it have been expressed there. Of the greatness of the calamity of that union,
and the grievous wrong done by it to one almost a child in years, experience, and
understanding, the author has nothing more to say than has been already said by
him on that painful subject. — R. R. M

070 NOTICE OF COUNT ALFRED D'ORSAY.

most confiding. Children who in general would hardly venture
to look at a stranger, would steal to his side, take his hand, and
seem to be quite happy and at ease when they were near him.
The same power of setting others perfectly at their ease in his
presence extended to his influence over grown-up persons.

In society he was agreeable, attentive, kind, and considerate
to all ; no one was too humble, too retiring, too little au fait in
the modes of living, acting, and thinking of those among whom
he might be accidentally thrown, to be beneath his notice, or
beyond the reach of his extraordinary power of finding out mer
it, devising means of drawing out any peculiar talent the per
son might possess, or of discovering some topic of interest to the
party on which he could get into conversation with him. Men
of all opinions, classes, and positions, found themselves at home
with him on some particular question or other ; and this not
from any effort or any unworthy concession on his part, but
from a natural facility of adapting himself to the peculiarities of
those around him. His active mind sought and found abundant
occupation in such conversational exercise. He often said that
" he had never known the meaning of the word cmiui"

No matter where or with whom he might be, he found means
to employ his mind and his time more or less usefully or agree
ably. The dullest country -town had for him as many resources
as Paris or London. Wherever he went, he Avas disposed to
find every thing interesting and good in its way, and every body
capable of being made amusing and agreeable. To the last,
when time, grief, and disappointment, the loss of fortune, friends,
and nearly all he loved best on earth, might well be supposed to
have soured his disposition, this happy turn of mind yet remain
ed unimpaired as in his eaj.iy youth.

Arrogance, and affectation, and purse-proud insolence alone
found him severe and satirical : on these his keen wit and re
markable powers of raillery were not unfrequently set, and per
haps his only enemies were those who had fallen under his lash,
or who were jealous of the superiority ot'his talents.

Some months after the death of Lord Blessington, Lady Bless-
ington and the Count and Countess D'Orsay returned to England.

NOTICE OF COUNT ALFRED D'ORSAY. 377

Shortly before the death of Count D'Orsay 's mother, who en
tertained feelings of strong attachment for Lady Blessino-ton, the
former had spoken with great earnestness of her apprehensions
for her son, on account of his tendency to extravagance, and of
lier desire that Lady Blessington would advise and counsel him,
and do her utmost to counteract those propensities which had
already been attended with embarrassments, and had occasioned
her great fears for his welfare. The promise that was given on
that occasion was often alluded to by Lady Blessington, and,
after her death, by Count D'Orsay.

A variety of painful circumstances, which have no place in
the present memoir, led to a break-up of the establishment of
Lady Blessington in Paris, after the death of Lord Blessington.
On her return to London, Lady Blessington took a house in Sea-
more Place, and Count D'Orsay one in Curzon Street; from
thence they removed to Kensington Gore — Lady Blessington to
Gore House, Count D'Orsay to a small dwelling adjoining it;
but finally they both occupied the former place of abode till the
break-up of that establishment in April, 1849.

The count returned to his native country after a residence
of nineteen years in London. In Paris he was joined by Lady
Blessington and her nieces, the Misses Power, shortly after his
arrival ; and in the following month of June he met, in her loss,
an affliction, from the effects of which he never thoroughly re
covered.

The ensuing year he realized a plan he had formed and often
spoken of in happier days. He hired an immense studio, with
some smaller rooms connected with it, attached to the house of
M.Gerdin, the celebrated marine painter. Here he transported
all his possessions (consisting chiefly of his own works of art,
easels, brushes, paints, &c.), and with the extraordinary taste and
talent for arrangement that constituted one of his gifts, a large
waste room, with naked loft, became transformed into one of
the most elegantly fitted up and admirably disposed studios of
Paris, and, at the same time, a habitable salon of great beauty,
combining requisites for a museum en miniature, arid objects of
virtu and art sufficient to furnish a small gallery. In this salon

278 NOTICE OF COUNT ALFRED D'ORSAY.

he might be said to be domiciled. Here he lived, here he daily
received the visits of some of the greatest celebrities of Europe ;
statesmen, politicians, diplomatists, men of letters, and artists,
were his constant visitors and frequent guests.

The ex-roi Jerome continued to be one of the most faithful
and attached of his friends. The paternal affection of the good
old man, with the warm regard of his son, the Prince Napoleon,
formed a remarkable contrast to the conduct of others, which
fully bore out the observation, " There are some benefits so
great that they can only be paid by the blackest ingratitude."
The ex-king Jerome never swerved in his affection for Count
D'Orsay, and his earnest desire was to see him elevated to a post
worthy of his position and talents. This hope, however, was
destined to be defeated. The President of the Republic had
nothing in common with the exile and prisoner of Ham ; he who
had long and largely served, counseled, and aided in various
ways the latter, through good report and evil report had been a
faithful friend to him, was looked on with coldness and aver
sion when he proved too independent and high-spirited to be
a mere servile, opinioiiless partisan of the most astute as well
as successful conspirator of modern times ; and as his presence
recalled obligations in private life, he became an object of jeal
ousy, his services a disagreeable souvenir. The poor count
pined away, long expecting an appointment, but expecting it in
vain. His health broke down, and when it was completely
broken down, Louis Napoleon conferred on his friend of former
days, already struck by the hand of death, the nominal post of
Director of Fine Arts, the duties of which office he was no longer
able to perform. The prince imagined, by the tardy act of grat
itude, he had screened himself from the just reproaches of all
who knew their former connection.

Count D'Orsay was struck to the heart by ^ic ingratitude of
Louis Napoleon, but his generous nature was incapable of bit
terness, and no sentiment of animosity was engendered by it ;
he suffered deeply and long in silence, but the wound festered,
and at times it was evident enough how much it galled him.

From thr» period of Lady Bles si niton's death, the count had

NOTICE OF COUNT ALFRED D'ORSAY. 279

given up general society, and during the last two years of his
life he confined himself almost altogether to the house, receiving
in his studio-salon morning visits of his family and a very small
circle of intimate friends. Lady Blessington's nieces, the com
panions of his happy and prosperous days, his attendants in
those of sickness and sorrow, some members of his familv, his
beloved sister, the ex-roi Jerome and his son, Emile de Girardin,
Dr. Cabarrus, his school-fellow, the son of the celebrated Mad
am Tallien, and the well-known Monsieur Ouvrard, Madam de

U— — , the Comtesse of D , were among the last in whose

constant society he found repose and pleasure when that of
others had lost its charm.

In the spring of 1852, the spinal malady which finally proved
fatal declared itself, and then commenced a long series of suf
ferings, which ended but with his life — sufferings endured with
fortitude, patience, uncomplaining gentleness, a manifest ab
sence of all selfishness, and consideration for those attending on
him, which none but those whose painful task it was to watch
by his couch could form any idea of.

In the month of July he was ordered to Dieppe as a last re
source, and thither he was accompanied by Lady Blessington's
nieces. From the time of his arrival in Dieppe he sunk rap
idly ; at the end of the month he returned to Paris dying, and
on the 4th of August, 1852, breathed his last, surrounded by
those whose unremitting care had been the last consolation of
his declining days.

During his illness he had more than once been visited by the
excellent Archbishop of Paris, though a comparatively late ac
quaintance, who entertained for him a warm regard.

Two days previous to his decease, the archbishop had a long
conversation with him, arid at parting embraced him, assuring
him of his friendship and affectionate regard.* The following
day, the last of his existence, he received the consolations of
religion from the cure of Chambourcy. For the church of this
good priest he had done a great deal : he had restored many

* " J'ai pour vous plus quo de I'arnilie, j'ai do 1'affection," wore- the archhish-
op's words.

280 NOTICE OF COUNT ALFRED D'ORSAY.

of the pictures, and bestowed the original picture of the Mater
Dolorosa, which had been painted by himself expressly for the
church, the lithograph of which is well known, and is sold un
der the title of the Magdalen, though why thus called it would
be difficult to say.

Thus terminated, at the age of fifty-one years, the existence
of this highly-gifted man, when hardly beyond the prime of life.

An innate love of all that was beautiful in nature and excel
lent in art, a generous, chivalrous nature, strong sympathies with
suffering, ardent feelings, a kindly disposition, elegant tastes,
and fine talents, capable of being turned in almost any pursuit
to an excellent account, these were the distinguishing charac
teristics of Count Alfred D'Orsay.

Many gifts and advantages, natural and intellectual, were
united in him. To remarkable personal comeliness were added
great strength and courage, which nothing could daunt, and an
adroitness which enabled him to excel in every thing he at
tempted. He was one of the best horsemen, the best shots, the
best fencers, and the best boxers of his day. His talents as a
painter and sculptor, though wanting cultivation and study, were
of the first order ; he had an excellent ear, and some taste for
music, with a tolerable tenor voice, which, however, he very
rarely exercised. His wit was keen and brilliant, his taste in
all matters of dress, furniture, and equipage, as well as in art,
excellent. In his mind and his manners there was a singular
mixture of refinement, simplicity, warmth, and frankness, very
productive of strongly pleasing impressions. Generous to lav-
ishness, frank to indiscretion, unsuspicious to credulity, disinter
ested to imprudence, his defects were, in the eyes of his ardent
friends, the excesses of his noble qualities. He has been often
heard to say that he would prefer being deceived a hundred
times rather than suspect another unjustly. He had a great
horror of scandal, and possessed chivalrous feelings, which led
him always to take the part of those who were violently assail
ed, absent or present, known to him or utter strangers.

During his residence at Gore House he was a generous bene
factor to those of his nation who required alms, encouragement.

NOTICE OF COUNT ALFRED D'ORSAY. 281

assistance, introductions, hospitality. From Louis Napoleon to
the poorest exile, his services were rendered with a frank, earn
est good-will, and a considerate delicacy and sympathy for mis
fortune, that increased the value of his assistance. He founded
the Socicte dc Bienfaisance, still existing in London, for the bene
fit of his distressed countrymen, nor was his aid ever withheld
from the poor or suffering of his adopted country, for his admi
ration for England ended only with his life.

In his temper, either in sickness or in health, he was never
irritable nor morose. Those who were about him and in attend
ance on him said, " They never knew any one so easy to live
with, so little given to find fault."

But there was one thing in his demeanor and carriage of a
very marked and distinguished character ; the high bearing,
proud spirit, and strong energy of a nobly constituted man were
mingled with the gentleness, the sensibility, self-devotion, and
tenderness of a woman's nature. Frank and open in all his deal
ings, the idea of deceiving or condescending to stoop to any
sophistry in conversation never entered his mind. This in
genuousness of mind and natural excellence of disposition were
admirably associated with external advantages, and set off by
an appearance of no ordinary comeliness, which in its perfec
tions united excellence of form, coloring, and expression. \Yit,
genius, and generosity, thus gracefully presented, and graciously
recommended in his person to observation, it may not be much
wondered at, were admired ; nor need we doubt that Alfred
D'Orsay was regarded by many with sentiments of regard and
esteem, and by some with stronger feelings of affection than
may be easily reconcilable with the prevailing opinion of his
faults and his defects.

Many of the preceding observations have been written by one
most intimately acquainted with Count D'Orsay, and devoted in
her attentions to him in his last illness, and up to his last mo
ments ; one who had known him long and well in the full force
and vigor of life and health in happier times, in the brilliant
circle in which he moved, " the glass of fashion and the mould
of form;" who had seen him in gay salons, the delight, of all

282 NOTICE OF COUNT ALFRED D'ORSAY.

around him, and in splendid equipages, witching also the world
of fashion in Hyde Park "with noble horsemanship," "the ob
served of all observers," there and every where he came. They
were written by one who had seen him in a few months re
duced from a high position, surrounded with all the luxuries of
life, from health and happiness to comparative obscurity and in
digence, to wretchedness and weariness of life, utterly broken
down in health and spirits. They were written with the warm
feelings of elevated kindness and of unfailing friendship of a
woman's heart, ever most true and faithful when the object of
its solicitude stands most in need of pity and of care.

In this notice we must not look for a close and scrutinizing
search for frailties and errors ; and we may fairly presume,
however truthful the account may be which is given to us of
the many excellent qualities of this gifted man, that he had his
faults and imperfections ; and happy may it be for him and
most men if the amount of evil is counterbalanced to some ex
tent by that of good.

The nearest and dearest living relation of Count D'Orsay, who
cherishes his memory as one of the objects in this world most
precious to her, makes no concealment of her conviction that
Count D'Orsay's ignorance of the value of money — the profuse
expenditure into which he was led by that ignorance, the temp
tation to play arising from it, the reckless extravagance into
which he entered, not so much to minister to his own pleasures
as to gratify the feelings of an inordinate generosity of disposi
tion, that prompted him to give whenever he was called on, and
to forget the obligations he contracted for the sake of others, and
the heavy penalties imposed on his friends by his frequent ap
peals for pecuniary assistance, were very grievous faults, and
great defects in his character. In other respects, it can not be
denied that great wrongs were inflicted on one entitled to pro
tection from him ; that public opinion was outraged by that ca
reer in London which furnished slander with so many plausible
themes; and, however groundless may be the innumerable ru
mors prejudicial to character that had been industriously prop
agated in relation to them, that great imprudence had been com-

NOTICE OF COUNT ALFRED D'ORSAY. 283

mitted, and grave suspicions had "been incurred by that impru
dence.

Those who deal rigorously with the defects of other people
may be very conscious of being exempt from the failings they
discover in eminent persons filling a large space in the public
view like the late Count D'Orsay ; but before they exult over
much in the fullness of their sense of superiority over others less
perfect than themselves, and in the abundance of their self-com
placency give thanks to God they are not like those other frail
and erring people, let them be well satisfied they have no frail
ties themselves of a different description, and that they are in
possession of all the good qualities that may belong even to their
erring brothers ; let them be well assured that, had their own
position in early life, and at the commencement of their career
in society, been surrounded by unfavorable circumstances and
evil influences, as those of the persons who are condemned by
them may have been, their own virtue was of such exalted ex
cellence that it would have triumphed over all those unfortu
nate circumstances and influences which had militated against
the happiness and good repute of others.

The following facts need no comments, and render any further
statements unnecessary on the subject I have referred to, of lav
ish extravagance.

Soon after the count separated from his wife, an agreement
was executed, in 1838, whereby he relinquished all his interest
in the Blessington estates, in consideration of certain annuities
amounting to .£2467 being redeemed, or allowed to remain
charged upon the estates (the sum then necessary to redeem
them was calculated at £23,500), and also in consideration of
a sum of £55,000 to be paid to him ; £1 3,000, part thereof, as
soon as it could be raised, and the remaining .£42,000 within
ten years. These latter sums were not paid until the estates
had been sold, namely, in 1851, when with interest they amount
ed to about £80,000, and that entire amount was paid to parties
to whom the count had given securities on the estates ; so that
with the annuities, the actual amount paid to his creditors out
of the estates was upward of £103,500. During his residence

984 NOTICE OF COUNT ALFRED D'ORSAY.

in England lie had an allowance from the Court of Chancery in
Ireland of £550, and Lady Harriet .£400 a year.
** D'Orsay's embarrassments, from the years 1837 and 1838 to
the close of his career, were continuous. In 1841, some efforts
.were made by his friends to extricate him from them. It was
the honorable motive of turning his talents to a profitable ac
count which subsequently led him to devote himself to art with
the idea of ultimately increasing his income by his pursuits as
a sculptor and a painter, and to cultivate the friendship of art
ists, with the view of deriving advantage from their several
excellences in their pursuits.

Most of his works of art are well known. His portrait of
"Wellington, who had so great a regard for him that it was suf
ficient to mention Count D'Orsay's name to insure his attention
and interest even when otherwise occupied, was, he believes,
the last for which the duke ever sat. At its completion his
grace warmly shook hands with the noble artist, exclaiming,
" At last I have been painted like a gentleman ! I'll never sit
to any one else." In Paris he executed a splendid bust of Lam-
artine, on which the poet wrote some fine verses ; one ofErnile
de Ciirardin, the boldest, the ablest, and the last open supporter
of liberty against oppression ; one of Napoleon Bonaparte, the
son of Jerome ; a picture of >Sir Ilobert Peel ; various other
sketches and medallions ; and, shortly before his death, he had
completed the small model of a full-sized statue of the ex-king
Jerome, ordered by government for the Salle des Marechaux de
France, and had commenced a colossal statue of Napoleon.

The following article respecting the merits of Count D'Orsay
as an artist appeared in the "Presse" newspaper of the 10th of
November, 1850 (written by Monsieur dc la Guerronniere), on
the occasion of the exhibition of a bust of Lamartine executed
by the count. The lines which follow the article, composed by
Lamartine, are not the least admirable of the celebrated poet.

LK BL'STE DE M. DE LAMARTIXE, VERS A. M. LE COMTE D'ORSAY.

" M. le Comtc D'Orsay est un amateur de Part plutot qu'un
artiste. Mais qu'est-ce qu'un amateur? C'est un volontaire

NOTICE OF COUNT ALFRED D'ORSAY. 285

parmi les artistes ; ce sont souvent les volontaires qui font les
coups d'eclat dans 1'atelier comme sur les champs de bataille.
Glu'est ce qu'un amateur? C'est un artiste dont le genie seul
fait la vocation. II est vrai qu'il ne recoit pas dans son enfance
ct pendant les premieres annees de sa vie cette education du
metier d'ou sort Michel Ange, d'ou sort Raphael. II suit moins
les procede's, les traditions, les secrets pratiques de son art ;
mais s'il doit moins au maitre, il doit plus a la nature. II est
son oouvre. C'est elle qui a mis le ciseau et le maillet du sculp-
teur entre les mains elegantes et aristocratiques de Mme. do
Lamartine, de Scrnesie, de M. de Nerewerkerke et de M. le
Comte D'Orsay.

" M. D'Orsay est d'une famille ou Ton doit avoir, plus quo
dans toute autre, le culte du beau dans Part. II est le ills d'un
general de nos annees heroiques, aussi ce'lebre par sa beaute quo
par ses faits d'armees. II est le frere de cctte belle Duchesse
de Grammont, dont le nom rappelle toutes les graces et toutes
les delicatesses d'esprit de la cour de Louis XIY. Lui-mcA>me,
avant d'avoir la ce'lebrite' d'artiste et d'homnie lettre, cut 1'illus-
tration de la nature : il fut uii type de noblesse et de dignite
dans les traits. II exer^a dans les salons de Paris et de Londres
la dictature Athenieime du gout et de 1'elegance. C'est un de
ces liommcs qu'on aurait cru prcoccupe dc succes futiles — parce
quo la nature semble les avoir crees uniquement pour son plaisir
— mais qui trompent la nature, et qui, apres avoir recueilli les
legeres admirations des jeunes gens et des femmes de leur age,
echappent a cette atmosphere de legerete avant le temps ou ils
laissent ses idoles dans le vide, et se transformer^ par 1'etude et
par le travail en hommes nouveaux, en hommes de me'ritc ac-
quis et serieux. M. D'Orsay ahabite longtemps 1'Angleterre ou
il donnait 1'exemple et le ton a cette societe aristocratique, un
peu raide et deforme, qui admire surtout ce qui lui manque, la
Grace et 1'abandon des maniercs. Mais il s'y etait rendu re-
commandable aussi et surtout par le patronage intelligent et in-
fatigable qu'il exer^ait envers les Francais de toutes les classes
denues de ressources dans ce desert de Londres. Une des plus
admirables institutions de secours pour les Francais ses compa-
triotes, lui doit son nom et sa prosperite.

286 NOTICE OF COUNT ALFRED D'ORSAY.

" DC cet'tc epoque, il eommenca a jouer avec 1'argile, le
marbre, le ciscau. Lie par un attachement dcvenu une parente
d'esprit, avec une des plus belles et des pins splendides femmes
dc son t'poquc, il lit son buste pendant qu'elle vivait ; il le fit
ideal ct plus totichant apres sa rnort. II moulc en formes apres,
rudes, sauvages, de grandeur fruste, les traits paysancsques
d'O'Connell. II sculpta la vicllessc toujours verte et calme de
Lord "\Vcllinjrton. Cos bustes furent a 1'instant vulgarises en
millieres d'exemplaires en Angleterre et a Paris. C'etaint des
creations iieuves. Rien de facticc ; rien do convenu ; rien de
I'art, exceptc le souverain art, celui qu'on nc sent pas et qui ne
laisse sentir quc 1'homme.

" Cos premiers succes lui en presageaient de plus complets.
!l clicrchait un visage. II en trouva un. Lord Byron, dont il
I'nt 1'ami et avec Icquel il voyagea pendant deux ans en Italie,
n'etait plus qu'uii souvenir aime dans son cceur. II retrouva ail-
leurs le genie de la poesie uni a la grandeur du caractere et a la
noblesse du courage. II fit le buste de Lamartine. II le fit de
memoirc, sans quc le inodele lui-meme en fut instruit. C'est
devant ce buste, bicntut expose au salon, que nous ecrivons ces
lignes. en demandant pardon a M. Theophile Gautier, notre spir-
ituel collaboratcur, d'anticiper sur sa critique, et de venir dans
son irracieux domaine, nous profanes, qui sormnes des pionniers
de la politique dans un champ si rude a labourer

" Le buste de Lamartine eta it tres difficile a sculpter, selon
nous dira t-on. Ses traits sont simples, regulieres, calme.s,
vastes ; ccla est vrai. Mais c'est que, dans leur simplicite, dans
leur regularite, dans leur calme, ils out des expressions fugi
tives et tres diverses. Or, comment etrc a la Jbis itn et dircr.t,
pour un artiste qui se donne la tuc.lic de reproduire ce t\'pe .'
.La (Halt le probleme. Le Cointc J.)'Orsay 1'a n'.solu.

" La nature1, qui ne se plie pas a nos dissections, fait quelquc-
fois des hommes f[ue nous pourrions appeler des hommes mul-
ti]>]es. JClle en faisait bicn davantage dans 1'antiquite, qui
n'avait ]>as nos sottes jalousies, nos ridicules prejuges a cct
egard, ct qui permettait a un homrne d'etre a la fois — si Dieu
1'avait fait teJ — un poetc, un oratcur, un soldat, un homme

NOTICE OF COUNT ALFRED D'ORSAY. 287

d'etat, un historien, mi philosophe, tin homme de lettres.
Athenes et Rome sont remplies de ces hommes-la, depuis So
lon, jusqu'a Pericles et Alcibiade, depuis Ciceron jusqu'a Cesar.
II n'y avait point alors ce systeme de caste dans 1'intelligence et
dans le caractere, qui defend aujourd'hui en France, comme cela
est defendu dans 1'Inde, d'exorcer plusieurs metiers, ou plusieurs
genics, ou plusieurs caracteres a la fois. Cette castration morale
de 1'homme n'etait pas inventee. Voila pourquoi les homrnes
de ces temps nous paraissent si grands. C'est qu'ils sont en-
tiers ? Aujourd'hui ce n'est plus cela. Hi vous avcz touclie
une lyre dans votre jeunesse, il vous sera defendu de toucher a
une epee plus tard. Vous screz range, bon gre mal gre, dans la
caste ties poetcs. Si vous avez rcvetu un uniforme, il vous
sera interdit d'etre un ecrivairi. ISi vous avez etc un orateur, il
vous sera impossible de revetir un uniforme et de commander
une armee. Si vous avez ecrit 1'histoire, il vous sera reproche
de toucher aux choscs qui seront 1'histoire a ecrire par d'autres
un jour. C'est notrc loi. C'est ce quo nous appelons la division
du travail. C'est ce j'appellerai plus justement la mutilation
des facultes humaines. Mais enfin, il n'y a rien a dire a cela
chez nous. C'est un fait; c'cst convenu.

" Or, il arrive quelquefois quo la nature sc revolte centre ces
distinctions arbitraires de notrc societe et de notre temps, et
qu'elle donne a un meme homme des facultes tres diverses quoi-
quc tres completes.

" Voici Lamartine posant devant M. D'Orsay ! Evidemment
il y a la plusieurs Lamartine. Lequel choisira le sculpteur ?
Est-cc le Lamartine des Meditations poetiques, des Harmonies re-
ligieuscs et de Jocclyn ? Est-ce Lamartine de la tribune ? Est-
ce le Lamartine de 1'Hotel de Ville haranguant les multitudes
pour desarmer la Revolution du drapeau de la Tcrreur, la poi-
trine decouvertc, haletant, les habits dechires ? Est-ce le Lam
artine ecrivant I'Histoire des Girondms ? Est-ce le Larhartine
a chcval et au feu des journees de mai et de juin, marchant a la
lete ties colonnes tic la garde mobile et dc la garde nationalc,
centre la Place de Greve ou contre les barricades des faubourgs
insurges ? E^t-ce Lamartine vaincu, desarme de son pouvoir et

288 NOTICE OF COUNT ALFRED D'ORSAY.

do sa popularite, se refugiant dc la politique dans les lettres, et
demandant a son travail solitaire et a la lampe de scs iiuits des
travaux qui epuisent la jeunesse d'un ecrivain ? Eh bien ! non,
cc n'est ni celui-ci, ni celui-la que M. le Comte D'Orsay a vonlu
clioisir. II n'a pas choisi ; il a mieux fait : il a fait le Lamar-
tine de la nature, le Lamartine tout cntier. Celui des poesies,
celui de la tribune, celui de 1'histoirc, celui de 1'Hotel de Ville
et celui de la rue, celui de la retraite et du travail.

" Voila. pour nous et pour 1'avcnir 1'incomparable superiorite
de cette couvre. Ce n'est pas tel ou tcl homme, telle on telle
partie de la vie de cet homme, c'est 1'homme, 1'homme divers,
1'homme multiple, 1'horame comme la nature ct le hasard des
circonstances 1'ont fait.

" On jugera de cettc ceuvre dc vie au salon. On pourra cri-
tiquer tel ou tcl coup de ciseau, tel ou tel muscle, telle ou telle
ligne du bronze ou du marbre. Mais on verra vivre un liommc.
On dira ce qu'un de nos amis a dit en voyant pour la premiere
fois cette epreuve : C'cst le buste de feu sacrc. Beranger, si
grand juge, cst sorti plein d'admiration de cet atelier. Ami du
modele il lui appartenait plus qu'a personne de prononcer sur
le talent du sculptcur.

" Au reste, il parait que le modele lui-meme a ete pressionne
par son image, car cette impression lui a rendu sa voix de poete
qui s'cst tue dupuis si longtemps au tumulte d'autres pcnsees
et d'autres actcs. En rcccvant a Mficon, il y a quelqucs jours
ce buste qui hii etait envoye par le statuairc, il a adrcsse, et
comme improvise' dans 1'instant memo a M. le Comte D'Orsay,
les strophes suivantes que nous dcvons a 1'obligcance dc celui
qui les a revues. JN'os lectures y retrouveront la voix qui nous
remuait dans notre jeunesse, et quo le temps, au lieu de la bri-
ser, a rendu plus virile, plus grave et plus penetrante que ja-
mais :

• "A MONSIEUR LE COMTE D'ORSAY.

I.

" Quantl le bronzo ceumant dans ton moulc d'argilc,
I>('-<ruoTa par ta main mem imago fragile
A 1'oeil indifferent des homines qui naitront,
Et que, passant, leurs doigts sur ces tcmpes ridees,

NOTICE OF COUNT ALFRED D'ORSAY. 289

Comme un lit devaste du torrent des idees,

Pleins de doute, ils diront entre cux : De qui ce front 1

ii.
" Est-ce un soldat debout frappe pour la patrie "?

Un poete qui chante, un pontife qui prie 1

Un orateur qui parle aux flots seditieux I

Est-ce un tribun de paix souleve par la houlle,

Offrant, le coeur gonfle, sa poitrine a la foule,

Pour que sa liberte remontat pure aux cieux 1

m.
" Car dans ce pied qui lutte, et dans ce front qui vibre,

Dans ces lueurs de feu qu'entr'ouvre un souffle libre,

Dans ce coeur qui bondit, dans ce geste serein,

Dans cette arche du flanc que 1'extase souleve,

Dans ce bras qui commando et dans cet 031! qui reve,

Phidias a petri sept ames dans 1'airain.

IV.

" Sept ames, Phidias ! et je n'en ai plus une !

De tout ce qui vecut je subis la fortune.

Arme cent fois brisee entre les mains du temps,

Je seme des trames dans ma route vers la tombeaux

Et le siecle hebete dit : ' Voyez comme tombe

A moitie du combat chacun des combattans !'

v.
" Celui-la chanta Dieu, les idoles le tuent !

Au mepris des petits, les grands le prostituent :

Notre sang, disent-ils pourquoi l'epargnas-tu I

Nous en aurions tach& la griffe populaire !

Et le lion couche lui dit avec colere :

Pourquoi m'as-tu calme 1 Ma force est ma vertu.

VI.

" Va, brise, o Phidias, ta dangereuse epreuve ;
Jettes-en les debris, dans le feu, dans le fleuve,
De peur qu'un foible coeur, de doute confondu,
Ne disc en contemplant ces affronts sur ma joue,
* Laissons aller le monde a son courant de boue,
Et que faut d'un coeur un siecle soit perdu !'

VII.

' ' Oui, brise, 6 Phidias ! derobe ce visage
A la posterite, qui ballotte une image
De I'Olympe a 1'egout, de la gloirc a. 1'oubli.
Au pilori du temps n'expose pas mon ombre !
Je suis las des soleils, laisse mon urne a I'ombre.
Le bonheur de la mort, c'est d'etre enseveli !
VOL. l.—N

•J90 NOTICE OF COUNT ALFRED D'ORSAY.

VIII.

" Quc la fcuille d'hiver au vent des nuits semee,
Quo, du coteau natal 1'argile encore aimee
Couvrent vite mon front moule sous son linceul !
Je ne veux de vos bruits qu'un souffle dans la brise,
Un nom inacheve dans un cceur qui se brise ;
J'ai vecu pour la foule, et je veux dormir seul.

"A. DK LAMARTINE."

" II y a encore line strophe plus toucliante et aussi grave que
les autres. Mais nous ne nous croyons pas permis de la copier.
L'auteur nc les ecrivait pas pour le public, mais pour uri cceur.
Nous obe'issons a la discretion qu'il nous aurait sans doute de-
mandee.

" On est heureux de pouvoir inspircr de pareils vers ! Plus
heureux sans doutc d' avoir pu les ecrire en quelques minutes, au
milieu des preoccupations des affaires et des difficultes du temps.
Nous en felicitous M. D'Orsay ct M. de Lamartinc. L'uii a line
belle page en vers ; 1'autre a une belle page en marbre. Us
sont quittes I'une envers 1'autre. Mais nous ne le sommes pas
envers eux, car nous leur devons une double emotion, et nos
lecteurs la partageront avec nous.

"A. DE LA GUERONNIERE."

There are some excellent remarks on D'Orsay's talents as an
artist, though a little too eulogistic perhaps, in an article in
"The Now Monthly Magazine" for August, 1845.

" Whatever Count D'Orsay undertakes seems invariably to be
well done. As the arbiter clegantiarum, he has reigned supreme
in matters of taste and fashion, confirming the attempts of oth
ers by his approbation, or gratifying them by his example. To
dress or drive, to shine in the gay world like Count D'Orsay,
was once the ambition of the youth of England, who then dis
covered in this model no higher attributes. But if time, who
' steals our years away,' steals also our pleasures, he replaces
them with others, or substitutes a better thing ; and thus it has
befallen with Count D'Orsay.

" If the gay equipage or the well-appareled man be less fre
quently seen than formerly, that which causes more lasting sat-

NOTICE OF COUNT ALFRED D'ORSAY. 291

isfaction, and leaves an impression of a far more exalted nature,
comes day by day into higher relief, awakening only the regret
that it should have been concealed so long. When we see what
Count D'Orsay's productions are, we are tempted to ask, with
Malvolio's feigned correspondent, * Why were these things hid ?'

" But AVC are glad to see that they are hidden no more, and
the accomplished count seems disposed to show the world of
how much he is really capable. His croquis de societe had long
charmed his friends, and his great skill in modeling was bruited
abroad, when the world began to ask, ' Is it true that in the man
of fashion exists the genius of the sculptor and the painter ?'
Evidence was soon given that such surmises were true.

"Count D'Orsay's statuettes of Napoleon and the Duke of
Wellington, and his portraits of Dwarkanauth Tagore and Lord
Lyndhurst, exhibited capabilities of the first order, and satisfied
every inquiry. Additional proof of his powers has been afford
ed by the publication of the engraving of his portrait of Lord
Byron.

" It is certainly a highly interesting work of art, and, in point
of resemblance, we are assured that one who knew him, per
haps best of all, has declared that, until now, there never exist
ed a likeness which completely satisfied the mind. Certain
traits of that thoughtful and intelligent countenance were want
ing in other portraits, but in this they are all happily united.

" Count D'Orsay has represented the noble bard where most
he loved to be, on the deck of his own vessel. He is sitting in
sailor's costume, leaning on the rudder, with his right hand un
der his chin, and his head elevated. In his fine large eyes is
an expression of deep thought, and a pensive character marks
his firm, but femininely-cut mouth. His noble expanse of fore
head and fine contour of head are drawn with a free and vigor
ous pencil. If we did not know whose likeness was intended,
we should still call this portrait an exceedingly fine study ; but
our interest in it is increased by the fidelity of the resemblance.
The portrait is well engraved by Lewis.

" We understand that his grace the Duke of Wellington is so
well pleased with the statuettes to which we have alluded, cop-

092 NOTICE OF COUNT ALFRED D'ORSAY.

ies of which he has given an order to be executed in silver, that
he is now sitting to the count for his portrait also. We there
fore look forward with a very pleasant anticipation to another
likeness of the hero of a hundred fights — and pictures too."

Haydon, in his Diary, 31st of June, 1838, makes mention of
D'Orsay : " About seven D'Orsay called, whom I had not seen
for long. Pie was much improved, and looking the glass of
fashion and the mould of form ; really a complete Adonis, not
made up at all. He made some capital remarks, all of which
must be attended to. They were sound impressions and grand.
He bounded into his cab, and drove off like a young Apollo with
a fiery Pegasus. I looked after him. I like to see such speci
mens."*

Again, in his Diary, 10th of July, 1839, Haydon observes:
" D'Orsay called and pointed out several things to correct in the
horse (the Duke of Wellington's charger), verifiying Lord Fitz-
roy's criticism of Sunday last. I did them, and he took my
brush in his dandy gloves, which made my heart ache, and low
ered the hind-quarters by bringing over a bit of the sky. Such
a dress — white greatcoat, blue satin cravat, hair oiled and curl
ing, hat of the primest curve and purest water, gloves scented
with eau de Cologne or eau de jasmine, primrose in tint, skin
in tightness. In this prime of dandyism he took up a nasty,
oily, dirty hog-tool, and immortalized Copenhagen (the charger)
by touching the sky."f

A friend of D'Orsay 's, in a notice of the count's death in the
" Globe" newspaper, has truly observed :

" Unquestionably one of the celebrities of our day, the de
ceased man of fashion, claims more than the usual curt obituary.
It were unjust to class him with the mere Brunirnels, Mildmays,
Alvanleys, or Pierreponts of the Regency, with whom, in his
early life, he associated, much less the modern men about town
who have succeeded him ; equally idle were the attempt to
rank him with a Prince do Ligne, an Admirable Crichton, or an
Alcibiades ; yet was he a singularly gifted and brilliantly ac
complished personage."

* Memoirs of B. R. Haydon, vol. iii., p. 86. f Ibid., vol. iii., p. 105.

NOTICE OF COUNT ALFRED D'ORSAY. 293

A writer in the " Annual Register," in another notice of the
count's death, thus speaks of his talents and acquirements :

" Few men in his position have shown greater accomplish
ments. His literary compositions were lively and imaginative.
His profile portraits of his friends (of which many have been
published in lithography) are felicitous and characteristic, and
his statuettes are not only graceful, but possess greater original
ity of conception than is evinced by the majority of professional
artists. In his general intercourse with society, Count D'Orsay
was distinguished not merely by true politeness, but by great
amiability. He was kind and charitable to his distressed coun
trymen, and one of the most assiduous supporters of the Societe
de Bienfaisance.

" In England the count became acquainted with Prince Louis
Napoleon, and soon after the arrival of the prince in France, he
fixed his own. residence in Paris. His name was designated
several times for diplomatic office, but it was rumored, and gen
erally believed, that the prince was too dependent upon his per
sonal advice and assistance to spare his society. We are now
told (by M. Girardin, in 'La Pressc') that, before the 2d of De
cember, nobody made greater or more reiterated efforts for a
policy of a different course and of the highest aspirations ; after
the 2d of December, no man exerted himself more to assuage
the stroke of proscription. The President of the Republic had
not a more devoted and sincere friend than the Count D'Orsay,
and it is at a moment when the prince had attached him to his
person by the title and functions of Superintendent of the Beaux
Arts that he has lost him forever."*

Count D'Orsay's connections with English families of distinc
tion, and relations with eminent persons of his country residing
in England, had made him well acquainted with London and its
society before his intimacy with the Blessingtons.

In 1828, Lady Blessington speaks of the General and Count
ess D'Orsay as having taken up their abode in Paris, and their
recent arrival from their chateau in Francke Comic.

No mention, however, is made in that portion of her journal,
* This appointment was announced only a few days before his death.

294 NOTICE OF COUNT ALFRED D'ORSAY.

nor, indeed, in any previous part of the " Idler in France," of
their son Count Alfred D'Orsay. " The Countess D'Orsay," Lady
Blessington observes, " had been a celebrated beauty, and though
a grandmother, still retains considerable traces of it. Her coun
tenance is so spirituclle and piquant that it gives additional point
to the clever things she perpetually utters ; and what greatly
enhances her attractions is the perfect freedom from any of the
airs of a belle esprit, and the total exemption from affectation that
distinguishes her.

"General D'Orsay, known from his youth as Le Beau D'Or
say, still justifies the appellation, for he is the handsomest man
of his age that I ever beheld. It is said that when the emperor
first saw him, he observed that ' he would make an admirable
model for a Jupiter,' so noble and commanding1 was the charac
ter of his beauty. There is a calm and dignified simplicity in
the manner of General D'Orsay that harmonizes with his lofty
bearing."*

Elsewhere Lady Blessington observes, " I know no such
brilliant talker as she (the Countess D'Orsay) is. No matter
what may be the subject of conversation, her wit flashes bright
ly on all, and without the slightest appearance of effort or pre
tension. She speaks from a mind overflowing with general in
formation, made available by a retentive memory, a ready wit,
and inexhaustible good spirits."!

The customary transmission of intellectual power in the ma
ternal line, and of striking traits of physical conformation from
sire to children, were not deviated from in the case of the chil
dren of the brilliant countess and the beau D'Orsay.

The mother of the Countess D'Orsay, Madame Crawford, was
a person of singular endowments. The King of AYurtemberg
had been privately married to this lady ; but on the legal mar
riage of the king with a royal personage, which his former wife
considered as an act of injustice to herself and her children (a
son who died young, though grown up, and a daughter, after
ward Madame D'Orsay), she went to France, and fixed her abode
there. She subsequently married a Mr. O'Sullivan, an Irishman

* The Idler in France, vol. i ., p. 238. f Ibid., vol. ii., p. 33.

NOTICE OF COUNT ALFRED D'ORSAY. 295

of large fortune in India, and after his death, Mr. Crawford, a
member of an ancient Scotch family, and also possessed of large
property. She survived him, and died at the age of eighty-four.
In India, the personal attractions of this lady obtained for her
the title of "La Belle Sullivan." On her return, one of her
countrymen addressed the following jeu d* esprit :

ON SENDING A SMALL BOTTLE OF OTTO OF ROSES TO MRS. SULLIVAN.
" Quand la ' belle Sulivan,' quitta 1'Asie,
La Rose, amoureuse de ses charraes,
Pleura le depart de sa belle amie,
Et ce flacon contient ses larmes."

Madame Crawford, in 1828, was residing in Paris. " Her ho
tel," says Lady Blessington in her diary, "is a charming one,
entrc Cour et Jardin ; and she is the most extraordinary person
of her age I have ever seen. In her eightieth year, she does
not look to be more than fifty-five, arid possesses all the vivacity
and good humor peculiar only to youth. Scrupulously exact in
her person, and dressed with the utmost care as well as good
taste, she gives me a notion of the appearance which the cele
brated Ninon de 1'Enclos must have presented at the same age,
and has much of the charm of manner said to have belonged to
that remarkable woman. It was an interesting sight to see her
surrounded by her grandchildren and great-grandchildren, all
remarkable for their good looks, and affectionately attached to
her, while she appears not a little proud of them."

Lady Blessington, in referring to the fascinating powers of
this elderly gentlewoman, and comparing them with those of
Ninon de 1'Enclos some seven-and-twenty years later, might
have found an elderly gentlewoman verging on sixty, nearer
home, possessing the extraordinary attractions she alluded to
in the case of the old French lady, who had a violent attack of
youth every spring for upward of half a century.

Ninon de 1'Enclos, at the age of fifty-six, inspired the Marquis
of Sevigne with the tender passion.

Bordering on her seventieth year, she inspired a Swedish no
bleman, a bold baron, with feelings of admiration and affection.

296 NOTICE OF COUNT ALFRED D'ORSAY.

Her last conquest was at the age of eighty : " Monsieur 1'Abbe
Gedouin fut la derniere passion."

But the last-named abbe, it would appear, was not the first
abbe who had felt the power of her attractions, even in her ma
ture years. The Abbe Chaulieu, descanting on the loveliness
of this remarkable old woman, said, " L'amour s'est retire
jusque dans les rides de son front."

Ninon preserved not only her beauty, but her sprightliness
of fancy in her advanced years. She had the art of saying good
things promptly and appropriately on proper occasions in a nat
ural manner, and the good sense never to violate the decencies
of life in conversation. She made no affectation of prudery,
however, and even declaimed much against prudes. " Elles
ctoient les Jansenistcs de 1'amour."*

The late Duke de Grammont, father of the present duke
(brother-in-law of Count Alfred D'Orsay), is described by Lady
Blessington as " a fine old man, who has seen much of the world,
without having been soured by its trials. Faithful to his sov
ereign during adversity, he is affectionately cherished by the
whole of the present royal family, who respect and love him,
and his old age is cheered by the unceasing devotion of his
children, the Duke and Duchesse de Guiche, who are fondly at
tached to hiin."t

* Lettres de Ninon do 1'Enclos, &c., avcc sa Vic, IGmo, London, 1782, tome

t The celebrated Duchesse dc Grammont, who perished on the scaffold in tho
French Revolution, was the sister of the famous minister, the Duke de Choiseul.
In 1751 we find the Duchesse de Grammont thus described by one of her cotem-
poraries : " She never dissembles her contempt or dislike of any man, in what,
over degree of elevation. It is said she might have supplied the place of Madame
de Pompadour if she had pleased. She treats the ceremonies and pageants of
courts as things beneath her. She possesses a most uncommon share of under
standing, and has very high notions of honor and reputation." This celebrated
lady possessed a very uncommon share of courage and magnanimity, which she
was called on some thirty years later to exhibit — not in gilded salons or brilliant
rircles of wit and fashion, but before the Revolutionary tribunal and on the scaf
fold. The duchosso, when brought before the judges of that murderous tribunal,
with an energy and eloquence that even struck the judicial assassins of that ini
quitous court with surprise, pleaded for the life of her dear friend, the Duchesse
de Chatek-t, but plead for it in vain. They died on the same scaffold.

NOTICE OF COUNT ALFRED D'ORSAY. 297

The parents of the present Duke of Grammont accompanied
the royal family in their exile to Scotland. The mother of the
duke died in Holy rood House in 1803.

In October, 1825, "the remains of the Duchess of Grammont,
which had lain in the royal vault of the chapel of Holyrood since
the year 1803, were transported in a hearse from the palace to
Newhaven, to be embarked on board a French corvette at an
chor in the roads. The lord provost and magistrates, the lord
advocate, the lord chief baron, Sir Patrick Walker, Sir Henry
Jardine, &c., attended, and followed the hearse in mourning
coaches to the place of embarkation, as a testimony of respect
for the memory of the illustrious lady, who died while sharing
the exile of the royal family of France. The original shell had
previously been inclosed in a coffin of a very superb description,
covered with crimson velvet, and gorgeously ornamented. The
plate bore the following inscription :

" Louise Franchise Gabrielle Aglae

De Polignac,

Duchesse de Grammont,

nee a Paris le 7 Mai,

1763;

morte le 30 Mars,
1803."*

Lady Tankerville, sister of the present Duke of Grammont, is
a native of Paris. Pier position in early life, belonging to one
of the first families in France, and one of those the most devoted
to the Bourbons, added to her great beauty, rendered her in the
old regime an object of general attention and attraction at court.
The Duke de Berri, before his alliance with a Neapolitan prin
cess, wished much to marry Mademoiselle de Grammont. On
the downfall of the elder branch of the Bourbons, her family
having suffered severely in the Revolution, she came to England,
and during her residence in this country in quasi exile, married
the Earl of Tankerville. This lady possesses all the vivacity of
her nation, and graceful, sprightly manners.

Charles Augustus, Lord Ossulston, the present Earl of Tank-

* Annual Register, 1825, p. 148.
N2

298 NOTICE OF COUNT ALFRED D'ORSAY.

erville, the 28th of July, 1826, married Corisande de Grammont,
daughter of Antoine, Due de Grammont, and Aglae de Polignac.

Another sister of the present Duke de Grammont married
General, afterward Marshal, Sebastiani, who, though an habit
ual invalid, was sagaciously chosen by the King of the Barri
cades to represent the armed majesty of France at the court of
St. James, immediately after the " three glorious days" of 1830.*

He was a man of profound reflection, though of no pretensions
to talent of any kind. He had the art of exerting influence with
out exciting envy or raising opposition. At an interval of thirty
years he married two ladies of the highest rank in France — a
Coigny and a Grammont.

In a letter of the Due de Grammont, then Due de Guiche
(without date), to Lady Blessington, he says, " My sister is gone
to London as embassadrice de Ls. Pe. Is it not strange? But
what will appear to you still more so is, that this extraordinary
change at their time of life is the operation of love, by which
influence no couple of sixteen have been ever more subdued.
I, who feel daily old age creeping on, I hope that some like oc
currence will in twenty years' time set me up again. I, how
ever, trust that, through our numerous acquaintances and con
nections with English society, she will be lien rcpuc, and that
people will remember the Comtcsse Sebastiani cst nee Grammont.
Believe me, my dear Lady Blessington, ever faithfully your at
tached friend, (Signed), GUICHE."

Count D'Orsay was a year younger than his sister, the present
Duchess of Grammont. Shortly after the death of the count,
by the desire of that lady I visited her at her seat at Charnbour-
cy, near St. Germain en Laye. Her resemblance to her brother
is striking. A more dignified and commanding, but, withal, ami
able-looking lady I have seldom met. Though her face and
noble form had been touched but recently by the hand of sorrow
and of sickness, the remains were still there of surpassing love
liness and beauty, and in her conversation there were ample evi-

* Byron speaks of meeting General Count Sebastiani, " a cousin of Napoleon,"
in London, in 1810. " Sebastiani," he observes, is "a fine, foreign, villainous-
looking, intelligent, and very agreeable man."

NOTICE OF COUNT ALFRED D'ORSAY. 299

dences of a high order of intellect, and of exalted sentiments of
a religious kind. Five-and-twenty years previously she was
described by Lady Blessington as the most striking-looking wom
an she ever beheld. Tall and graceful, her commanding figure,
at once dignified and perfectly symmetrical, was in harmony
with her noble features, their lofty expression of superior intel
ligence, and the imposing character of her conversational powers.

With respect to Count D'Orsay's sentiments on the subject of
religion in the latter part of his life, I have a few words to add.

I visited my poor friend a few weeks before his death, and
found him evidently sinking, in the last stage of disease of the
kidneys, complicated with spinal complaint. The wreck only
of the beau D'Orsay was there.

He was able to sit up and to walk, though with difficulty and
evidently with pain, about his room, which was at once his stu
dio, reception room, and sleeping apartment. He burst out cry
ing when I entered the room, and continued for a length of time
so much affected that he could hardly speak to me. Gradually
he became composed, and talked about Lady Blessington's death,
but all the time with tears pouring down his pale, wan face, for
even then his features were death-stricken.

He said with marked emphasis, " In losing her I lost every
thing in this world — she was to me a mother ! a dear, dear mother !
a true, loving mother to me /" While he uttered these words, he
sobbed and cried like a child. And referring to them, he again
said, " You understand me, Madden" I understood him to be
speaking what he felt, and there was nothing in his accents, in
his position, or his expressions (for his words sounded in my
ears like those of a dying man) which led me to believe he
was seeking to deceive himself or me.

I turned his attention to the subject I thought most important
to him. I said, among the many objects which caught my at
tention in the room, I was very glad to see a crucifix placed over
the head of his bed ; men living in the world, as he had done,
were so much in the habit of forgetting all early religious feel
ings. D'Orsay seemed hurt at the observation. I then plainly
said to him, " The fact is, T imagined, or rather T supposed, you

300 NOTICE OF COUNT ALFRED D'ORSAY.

had followed Lady Blessington's example, if not in giving up
your own religion, in seeming to conform to another more in
voirue in England." D'Orsay rose up with considerable energy,
and stood erect and firm with obvious exertion for a few seconds,
looking like himself again, and pointing to the head of the bed,
he said, " Do you see those two swords ?" pointing to two small
swords (which were hung over the crucifix crosswise) ; " do you
see that sword to the right ? With that sword I fought in de
fense of my religion. I had only joined my regiment a few
days, when an officer at the mess-table used disgusting and im
pious language in speaking of the Blessed Virgin. I called on
him to desist ; he repeated the foul language he had used ; I
threw a plate of spinach across the table in his face ; a chal
lenge ensued ; we fought that evening on the rampart of the
town, and I have kept that sword ever since."

Whatever we may think of the false notions of honor, or the
erroneous ones of religion which may have prompted the en
counter, I think there is evidence in it of early impressions of a
religious nature having been made on the mind of this singular
man, and of some remains of them still existing at the period
above named, however strangely presented.

On this occasion, Count D'Orsay informed me that Lady Bless-
ington never ceased " in her heart" to be a Catholic, although
she occasionally attended the church of another persuasion ; and
that while she was in Paris, she went every Sunday to the Mad
eleine, in company with some member of his family.

And here I may observe, that on one occasion, when I visited
Lady Blcssington on a {Sunday, after her return from church, I
found her with several visitors, discussing the merits of the ser
mon she had just heard preached. Her ladyship inveighed
strongly against the sermon, and the style of preaching in En
gland.

A young man observed, he should hardly have expected such
severe censures on their pulpit from a person of such high
church principles as her ladyship.

Lady Blessington said, very calmly, and more deliberately than
usual. ': The doctrines of the Protestant Church never appeared

NOTICE OF COUNT ALFRED D'ORSAY. 301

to me better than those of the Catholic Church. I was educated
in the doctrines of that church. When I married I got into the
habit of accompanying my husband to his church, and I contin
ued to go there from the force of habit and for convenience, but
never from conviction of its doctrines being better than those of
the Catholic Church."

I think there were seven or eight persons present when this
startling avowal was made.

But perhaps I ought to have observed, fully two or three years
before that period, I had taken the liberty of an old and privi
leged friend to write a letter to her ladyship, venturing to re
mind her of the faith she had been born in, to point out the hol-
lowness of the pleasures of that society in which she moved, of
the insufficiency of them for her true happiness, of the day that
must come, when it would be found that religion was of more
importance than all the fame, or glory, or delight that ever was
obtained by intellectual powers, or enjoyed in brilliant circles.
And though that letter has no place among her papers, I have
reason to know it did not pass altogether out of her memory.

The death of D'Orsay was thus noticed by " La Presse," ed
ited by Emile Girardin, of the 5th of August, 1852 :

" Le Cornte Alfred D'Orsay cst rnort ce matin a trois heures.

" La douleur et le vide de cette inort seront vivement res-

sentis par tous les amis qu'il comptait en si grand nombre en

France et en Angleterre, dans tous les rangs de la societe, et

sous tous les drapeaux de la politique.

" A Londres, les salons de Gore House furent toujours ouverts
a tous les proscrits politiques, qu'ils s'appelassent Louis Bona
parte ou Louis Blanc, a tous les naufrages de la fortune et it
toutes les illustrations de 1'art et de la science.

" A Paris, il n'avait qu'un vaste atelier, mais ou quiconque
allait frapper au nom d'uii malheur a secourir ou d'un progres
a encourager, etait toujours assure du plus affable accueil et du
plus cordial concours.

" Avant le 2 Decembre, nul ne fit d'efforts plus reiteres pour
que la politique suivit un autre cours et s'elevat aux plus haute s
aspirations

302 NOTICE OF COUNT ALFRED D'ORSAY.

" Apres le 2 Decembre, nul ne s'ernploya plus activement
pour amortir les coups de la proscription : Pierre Dupont le sait
et peut le certifier.

" Le President de la Republique n'avait pas d,'ami a la fois
plus devoue et plus sincere que le Comte D'Orsay ; et c'est
quand il venait de la rapprocher de lui par le titre et les fonc-
tions de surintendant des beaux-arts qu'il le perd pour toujours.

"C'est une perte irreparable pour 1'art et pour les artistes,
mais c'est une perte plus irreparable encore pour la verite et
pour le President de la Republique, car les palais n'ont que deux
portes ouvertes a la verite : la porte de Pamitie et la porte de
1'adversitc, de 1'amitie qui est a 1'adversite ce que 1'eclair est &
la foudre.

"La justice indivisible, la justice egale pour tous, la justice
dont la mort tient les balances compte les jours quand elle ne
mesure pas les dons. Alfred D'Orsay avait ete comble de trop
de dons — grand coeur, esprit, un gout pur, beaute antique, force
athletique, adresse incomparable a tous les exercices du corps,
aptitude incontestable a tous les arts auxquels il s'etait adonne :
dcssin, peinture, sculpture — Alfred D'Orsay avait ete comble de
trop de dons pour que ses jours ne fussent pas parcimonieuse-
ment comptes. La mort ete a inexorable, mais elle a ete juste.
Elle ne Fa pas traite en. hornme vulgaire. Elle ne 1'a pas pris,
elle 1'a choisi."

Among those wbo attended the funeral of Count D'Orsay
were Prince Napoleon Bonaparte, Count de Montaubon, Count
de Latour du Pin, the Marquis du Pradt, M. Emile de Girardin,
M. Clesiriger, the sculptor ; M. Charles Lafitte, M. Bixio, M. Al-
exandre Dumas, Jun., M. Hughes Ball, and several other En
glish gentlemen. The Duke de Grammont, brother-in-law of
Count D'Orsay, being confined to his bed by illness, Count Al
fred de Grammont and the Duke de Lespare, nephews of the
deceased, were the chief mourners. No funeral oration was
pronounced over the body, but the emotion of the persons pres
ent was great, and the sadness of the scene was increased by
the appearance of the Duchess de Grammont, sister of the de
ceased, who, with her husband, had assiduously attended him
during his illness.

NOTICE OF COUNT ALFRED D'ORSAY. 393

" The Bulletin de Paris says, ' When the news of the death
of Count D'Orsay was communicated to the Prince President, he
exclaimed that he had lost " his best friend." ' The same jour
nal states that the large model of the statue of Napoleon, which
Count D'Orsay was making from a small one, executed by Mor
timer, which was seen at the London Exhibition, was nearly
terminated at the time of his death, and that M. Clesinger was
formally charged by him to finish his marble statue of the ex-
king Jerome."*

The Prince President, we are told, exclaimed, when he heard
of the death of Count D'Orsay, that he had lost " his best friend."
The Prince President may have said these words, and the day
may come when he will feel that Count D'Orsay was one of his
very best and truest friends, when he raised his voice, not once
or twice, but frequently, it is asserted, against the meditated act
of treason to the government he, the Prince President, had sworn
to maintain.

The relations that existed at Gore House between Count
D'Orsay — something more than a mere leader of fashion in Lon
don — the intimate friend of statesmen of all parties, of political
people of great eminence in Parliament, of editors of newspa
pers, mighty men of influence of" the fifth estate of the realm ;"
of the foreign ministers at the court of St. James's, and the sec
retaries of the several legations ; and though last, not least in
importance, the intimate and confidential friend of the lady at
whose reunions in Gore House of the celebrities of all political
parties and of all intellectual pursuits in London — and the pro
scribed Prince Louis Napoleon, the twice discomfited conspira
tor, and still conspiring refugee in England, were such as might
have been expected ; they were most intimate, cordial, and con
fiding. To those relations, it may be truly said, without exag
geration or fear of contradiction, the proscribed conspirator was
indebted for the position in society, the opportunities of acquir
ing influence, of obtaining an early and timely knowledge of
passing events in foreign courts, and especially in the court of
France, and in the diplomatic circles in London ; and also of
* Gentleman's Magazine, September, 1852, p. 308.

304 NOTICE OF COUNT ALFRED D'ORSAY.

promoting his views in France "by the co-operation of Count
D'Orsay's immediate friends and influential connections, which
ultimately secured for him the presidency of the French Re
public.*

But the coup d'etat, which was accomplished at the expense
of personal honor, and the cost of perjury and blood, put an end
to the relations of amity that had subsisted hitherto between
Count D'Orsay and Prince Louis Napoleon. D'Orsay, with all
his faults, was a man of chivalrous notions as to the obligations
of solemn promises and sacred oaths ; he believed the President
of the Republic had violated those obligations, and D'Orsay was
not a man, for any consideration on earth, to refrain from ex
pressing his opinion of the dishonor of such a violation. Yery

shortly after the coup d'etat, a friend of mine, Monsieur du P ,

dined in Paris at the house of a French nobleman of the high
est rank, where Count D'Orsay was present. There were about
twenty or two-and-twenty persons present, persons of distinction
and of various political sentiments. The all-important topic of
the coup d'etat was discussed for some time with all due pru
dence and reserve. D'Orsay at length coming out with one of

* On the 9th of April, 1849, the Duke of Wellington wrote a letter to the Count
D'Orsay, in which the following passage occurs : " Je me rejouis do la prosperite
de la France et du succes dc M. le President de la Republique. Tout tend vers
la permanence de la paix de 1'Europe qui est necessaire pour le bonheur de chacun.
Votre ami tres devoue. WELLINGTON."

This singular letter of one of the most clear-sighted, far-seeing men of modern
times, was written after the election of Louis Napoleon to the presidency of the
republic. Not after the coup d'etat of December, 1851. A few dates of remarkable
occurrences in the latter part of the career of Louis Napoleon will enable us to
form a better idea of the views expressed in the communication above referred to.

Louis Napoleon was elected President of the Republic the 10th of December,
1848. His coup d'etat, the arrest of the leading members of the Chamber of Dep
uties, and the downfall of the republic, took place the 2d of December, 1851. His
presidential powers were prolonged for ten years the 20th of December, 1851. IIo
was proclaimed emperor the 2d of December, 1852, then in his forty-third year,
being born the 20th of April, 1808.

From the time of the Chartist demonstration in London in 1848, when the
Prince Louis Napoleon (then in exile) was sworn in as a special constable for the
preservation of the peace in the metropolis of England, to the period when he was
proclaimed Emperor of the French in December, 1852, there was an interval of
about four years and a half.

NOTICE OF COUNT ALFRED D'ORSAY. 395

his customary notes of preparation, "a bas .'" made short work
of the reserve and prudence of the discussion. He expressed
his opinion in English in a deliberate manner, speaking in a loud
tone, but emphatically and distinctly, these words : " It is the
greatest political swindle that has ever been practiced in the world!"

My friend, who was deeply interested in the welfare of D'Or-
say, was dismayed at " the indiscretion of this explosion of opin
ion." It was like a bomb-shell in the circle. There were per
sons present who might be supposed to have to advance their
fortunes by the prince's favor ; there were several servants in the
room at the time, moreover, and it might be reasonably feared at
that period the police were not remiss in making themselves
acquainted with the servants of all persons of political influence
and importance in Paris.

It must be borne in mind that D'Orsay at that time was wholly
dependent on the favor of the prince for his future position in
his own country. He had left England utterly ruined in his cir
cumstances, and came to France counting on the friendship and
gratitude of his former friend at the head of the French repub
lic, to whose elevation he had certainly very largely contributed.
He was well received by the prince, and proffers of public em
ployment adequate to his expectations and his talents were made
to him. But after the period of the coup d'etat and the dinner
above referred to — post or propter that entertainment — the
friendship of the prince for the count cooled down from blood
heat to the freezing point, and eventually to zero. The man
with the heavy eyelids, and the leaden hand of care and calcu
lation pressing them down, when he imposed on himself the
weight of empire, could not see his former friends without look
ing down on them, and D'Orsay was not a man to be looked
down on, or coldly at, even by an emperor. For eighteen months
before his death his relations with Louis Napoleon had wholly
ceased.

The prince at last, when D'Orsay was laboring under the ill
ness which soon after consigned him to an early grave, allowed
himself to be persuaded, by urgent arid pressing friends of the
poor count, that his former friend had some claim on him. The

306 NOTICE OF COUNT ALFRED D'ORSAY.

emperor deigned to recognize the claim. His imperial majesty
appointed Count Alfred D'Orsay " Director of Fine Arts." Of
all things it can not be said truly " better late than never."
This thing, that was meant to look like an act of kindness and
of gratitude, was too late to be of any use. No one was bet
tered or deceived by it.

I spoke with some surprise of similar acts of the same exalt
ed personage to Lamennais, not long before his death; the abbe,
with the quiet look, the cold, unimpassioned expression of the
bright, clear gray eyes of his, observed, " Voyez vous mon chcr
Monsieur Madden, cctte homme la, n'a pas le sentiment ni du
bien, ni du mal — il n'a pas de sentiment quo de soi merne."
English history, as well as French, will yet have to ratify the
opinion of the Abbe Lamennais.

Among the papers of Lady Blessington I find some very re
markable lines by a very remarkable man, one of the master
spirits of original mind of his age — lines which might be read
with advantage by all " swimmers in the stream of politics."

" SOME ADDITIONAL LINES FOR A POEM, ONE OF THE THEMES OF WHICH

IS THE QUEST OF HONOR.
" The swimmers in the stream of politics,
That keep each other down where none float high
But who are rotten, shouted in my ear,
' Come hither ! here is honor, on this side ;
He hates the other.'

I passed on, nor look'd,
Knowing the voices well : they troubled me
Vociferating : I searched for willow wand
To scourge and silence the importunates,
And turned me round : lo ! they were all upon
The farther bank,, and, basking in the sun,
Mowed at me, and defied me to cross o'er,
And broke their cakes, and gave their curs the crumbs,
Weary with wanderings."

In. bringing this sketch of the career of Count Alfred D'Orsay
to a close, a summary notice of his most remarkable qualities,
his talents, and the application of them, is given, that the reader
may be able to form a just estimate of his character and abilities.

One was reminded not unfrequently, by the wit combats at

NOTICE OF COUNT ALFRED D'ORSAY. 307

Gore House, of the days of the Chevalier de Grammont, when
Dorset, Sedley, Ethelridge, Denham, Killigrew, " and all the
whole band of wits"* diverted the beau monde with bon mots,
sarcastic repartees, quaint observations, humorous sallies, and
sharply-pointed epigrams, brought to bear on striking peculiar
ities of absent acquaintances, or well-known persons of quality
within the category of " precieuses ridicules."

"The wits" of the age of Horace Walpole were pretty much
the same as those of the times of Holland House and Kensing
ton Gore intellectual gladiatorship. The wit combatants of both
in the arena of fashionable literary circles are composed of va
rious grades of competitors for celebrity and pretenders to dis
tinction, and success in sprightly conversation, in lively corre
spondence, and occasional written drolleries in prose and verse;
the efforts of all are to amuse and to be distinguished, and for
these ends they must exhibit a keen perception of the ridicu
lous, a facility for catching salient points in conversation, and
combining apparent similitudes of things ludicrous in them
selves with ideas of subjects naturally grave or serious ; they
must evince a strong sense of the obligations imposed on vivacity
of mind and liveliness of imagination by the patronage of people
a la mode or a favored position in society ; they must submit to
the necessity, in short, of amusing its magnates by a felicitous
expression of quaint, jocund, and striking thoughts opportunely
brought forth and without apparent effort. In this strife of high
ly-excited intellectuality, mere pleasant conversationalists jostle
against story-tellers and retailers of anecdotes of more or less
celebrity, humorists at table after the cloth is taken away, and
only then at home in broad and farcical jests, and in impromptu
double entendres come in contact with the pet poets of the salons,
who figure in albums, and compose vcrs de societc on the spur
of the occasion, previously expected or anticipated, furnish par
odies and burlesques to order, conveyed in an invitation to din
ner, and sit down deliberately to load their memories in private,
and with malice in their wit aforethought, and come charged
into company with sarcastic epigrams, to be fired oft in public

* Memoirs of Grammont, p. 189.

308 NOTICE OF COUNT ALFRED D'ORSAY.

at the peculiarities of absent friends, or the failings or absurd
ities of the celebrities of other circles. In this sharp encounter
of keen wits, the mere punster, endowed with great natural
powers of impudence, and a large stock of animal spirits, whose
whole laborious leisure is devoted to the amusement of playing
upon words, is to be met cheek by jowl at the same tournament
with one like Curran, not always, however, to be found in the
most brilliant circles of fashion, or salons of ladies of literature
a la jnodc, whose wit is " as keen as his sword, but as polished
as the scabbard," which relies 011 its success neither on flippant
sarcasms, or vulgar scoffing in society at high principles or he
roic actions, or sneering humorous observations on sacred or on
serious subjects, but on its own bright light of intellectuality,
condensed and capable, when called into action, of irradiating
every subject on which it glances even for a moment.

"When the mind of genius is charged with intellectual elec
tricity, we have sparkles of intelligence flashing from the as
similation of dissimilar ideas, which have been suddenly, and
apparently accidentally, brought into collision ; and these fitful
gleams of bright thoughts, felicitously expressed, constitute what
is called wit.

But we have as many kinds of these bright emanations of in
tellectuality as we have of atmospheric meteors in all the va
ried forms of electrical phenomena.

Perhaps the highest order of wit exhibited in our times (the
keenest wit combined with the greatest powers of eloquence')
was that which was displayed by Curran in public and in pri
vate.

Of Curran's conversational powers, Byron, in his mernor.in-

durn-book, has spoken in terms of no stinted praise : " Curran '

Curran ! the man who struck me most. Such imagination !

There never was any thing like it that I ever saw or heard of.

His published life — his published speeches, give you no idea of

the man — none at all. He was a machine of imagination ; as

some one said of Piron, that he was an epigrammatic machine."*

Elsewhere in his memoranda he said, "The riches of his

* Moore's Life of Byron, p. 304, 8vo ed., 1838.

NOTICE OF COUNT ALFRED D'ORSAY. 399

(Curran's) Irish imagination were exhaustless. I have heard
that man speak more poetry than I have ever seen written,
though I saw him seldom, and but occasionally. I saw him
presented to Madam de Stael. It was the great confluence be
tween the Rhone and the Saone."

The wits of Horace Walpole's day, Sir George Selwyn, Sir
Hanbury Williams, Bubb Doddington, Charles Townsend, and
their associates, it is difficult to judge of at the distance of a
century from their times. But it would appear their wit was
of the social, unpremeditated, conversational character, in which
Sydney Smith, Talleyrand, Hook, and Barham particularly ex
celled in our times.

For conversational humor and drollery in the composition of
quizzical verses, Sir Charles Hanbury Williams, the protege of
Sir Robert Walpolc (if his contemporaries speak truly of him),
can hardly have been excelled by any modern humorist. The
social character of the clubs, taverns, or coffee-houses of those
days was favorable to the development of conversational talent.*

Selwyn, the man renowned for social wit, was utterly defi
cient in the gift of oratory. He sat forty years in Parliament
for Gloucester, and never spoke on any question. He was al
ways torpid as well as silent in the House.

Sir Hanbury Williams, the celebrated sayer also of bo?i mots,
and composer of pointed epigrams, a man of astounding audac
ity in turning sacred subjects into ridicule, and treating the
most solemn subjects with flippant jocularity and revolting lev
ity, sat in the House of Commons a silent member, rapt in
gloom, which terminated in insanity and suicide.

" Sayers of good things," in general, are not men of great
powers of eloquence. Wits who can set the table in a roar, and
give utterance to bon mots of remarkable drollery, may be inca
pable of delivering twenty consecutive sentences on any serious
subject before a number of people prepared to listen to them.

* Count D'Orsay was a member of Crockford's as long as it lasted, and after
ward of the Coventry. An attempt was made to get him into " White's," but it
was discovered there were some parties who were determined to exclude him,
and consequently his friends withdrew his name before the ballot took place.

310 NOTICE OF COUNT ALFRED D'ORSAY.

D'Orsay was no exception to the rule. He abounded in rich
humor, and excelled in repartee. There was an air of aristo
cratic nonchalance in the grave irony of his conversational sal
lies. He gave vent to his wit in the quietest tone, and with
the most immovable features possible. He was an adept in the
art of quizzing people who were at all ridiculous with singular
composure of mien and manner. His performances in this line
were gone through with ease and elegance, but the gift of elo
quence was not bestowed on him.

Of D'Orsay's rich humor arid repartee, it might be said, like
Selwyii's :

"His social wit, which, never kindling strife,

Blazed in the small, sweet courtesies of life ;

Those little sapphires round the diamond shone,

Lending soft radiance to the richer stone/'

It would be difficult to convey in words any precise idea of
D'Orsay's Avit and powers of facetiousness in conversation. A
mere report would be in vain of the ban mots he uttered, with
out a faithful representation of his quiet, imperturbable manner,
his arch look, the command of varied emphasis in his utterance,
the anticipatory indications of coming drollery in the expression
of his countenance, the power of making his entourage enter into
his thoughts, and his success in. prefacing his jcu d'esprit by sig
nificant glances and gestures, suggestive of ridiculous ideas.

The literary artist who could describe these peculiarities must
be no ordinary word-painter.

L)'0rsay had made a study of the wit of Talleyrand, and he
became a proficient in that species of refined conversational
esprit, combining terseness of language, and neatness of expres
sion, and certitude of aim, with the polish of the shaft and the
sharpness of the point of an intellectual weapon of rare excel
lence.

The macaronis of a century ago, the bucks, bloods, and bcaus
of a later period, represented by the fops, exquisites, or dandies
— the inane cxclusives — the ephemeral petits mat ires of our
times, are not the tribe which furnish men of fashion of D'Or
say's stamp. D'Orsay was a fop in attire and appearance, but

NOTICE OF COUNT ALFRED D'ORSAY. 31 1

his foppery was only a spice of vanity, superadded to superior
intellectual powers, which condescended at times to assume a
dandyish character.

D'Orsay's fine taste was particularly exhibited in the con
struction and turn-out of those well-known, elegant vehicles of
his and Lady Blessington, which used to attract so much atten
tion in Hyde Park a few years ago. D'Orsay, like Grammont,
has left reminiscences of promenade achievements — " a cheval
ct en voiture" — in that favored locality, but of a very different
character.

In the time of Grammont, " Hyde Park, as every one knows,
was the promenade of London." In 1659 it was thus described
to a nobleman of France :

" I did frequently, in the spring, accompany my Lord N

into a field near the town, which they call Hide Park ; the place
not unpleasant, and which they use as our course, but with
nothing of that order, equipage, arid splendor ; being such an
assembly of wretched jades and hackney-coaches, as, next a
regiment of carr men, there is nothing approaching the resem
blance. The Park was, it seems, used by the late king and no
bility for the freshness of the air and the goodly prospect,"*
&c

In these latter days Hyde Park makes a different figure in the
pages of Mr. Patmore. The scene he describes is the ring, and
the writer of the sketch is supposed to be lounging there, gaz
ing at the brilliant equipages as they pass, and the celebrities
of fashion who figure there.

" Observe that green chariot, just making the turn of the un
broken line of equipages. Though it is now advancing toward
us, with at least a dozen carriages between, it is to be distin
guished from the throng by the elevation of its driver and foot
man above the ordinary level of the line. As it comes nearer,
we can observe the particular points which give it that perfectly
distingue appearance which it bears above all others in the
throng. They consist of the white wheels, lightly picked out

* A Character of England, as it was lately presented to a Nobleman of France,
12mo, 1659, p. 51. Ap. Grammont's Mem.

312

NOTICE OF COUNT ALFRED D'ORSAY.

with green and crimson ; the high-stepping action, blood-like
shape, and brilliant manege of its dark bay horses ; the perfect
style of its driver ; the height (six feet two) of its slim, spider-
limbed, powdered footman, perked up at least three feet above
the roof of the carriage, and occupying his eminence with that
peculiar air of accidental superiority, half petit maitrc, half
plow-boy, which we take to be the ideal of footman perfection ;
and, finally, the exceedingly light, airy, and (if we may so speak)
the intellectual character of the whole set-out. The arms and
supporters blazoned on the centre panels, and the small coronet
beneath the window, indicate the nobility of station ; and if
ever the nobility of nature was blazoned on the ' complement
extern' of humanity, it is on the lovely face within — lovely as
ever, though it has been loveliest among the lovely for a longer
time than we dare call to our own recollection, much less to
that of the fair being before us.

" But, see ! what is this vision of the age of chivalry, that
comes careering toward us, on horseback, in the form of a stately
cavalier, than whom nothing has been witnessed in modern
times more noble in air and bearing, more splendid in person,
more distingue in. dress, more consummate in equestrian skill,
more radiant in intellectual expression, and altogether more
worthy and fitting to represent one of those knights of the olden
time, who warred for truth and beauty beneath the banner of
Cceur de Lion. It is Count D'Orsay, son-in-law of the late Lord
Blessington, and brother to the beautiful Duchesse tie Quiche.
Those who have the pleasure of being personally intimate with
this accomplished foreigner will confirm our testimony that no
man has ever been more popular in the upper circles, or has
better deserved to be so. His inexhaustible good spirits and
good nature, his lively wit, his generous disposition, and his varied
acquirements, make him the favorite companion of his own sex ;
while his unrivaled personal pretensions render him, to say the
least, 'the observed of all observers' of the other sex. Indeed,
since the loss of poor William Locke, there has been nobody to
even dispute the palrn of female admiration with Count D'Or

say."*

* My Friends and Acquaintances, &c., vol. i., p. 194.

NOTICE OF COUNT ALFRED D'ORSAY. 313

D'Orsay's position in English fashionable society was not due
to rank, wealth, or connections, or to his generally admitted ex
cellence of taste in all matters appertaining to attire, equipage,
the adornment of saloons, " the getting up" of liveries, the train
ing of his tigers, or the turning out of cabs, tilburies, chariots,
and other vehicles remarkable for elegance of form or lightness
of construction.

It is very evident that the individual was something more
than a mere fop and man of fashion, or " a compound even of
Hercules and Adonis," who could count among his friends the
Duke of Wellington, Marquis Wellesley, the Lords Brougham,
Lyndhurst, and Byron ; and such men as Landor, Forster, D 'Is
raeli, the Bulwers, <fee.

The foreigner could be no ordinary person who figured in the
society of the most eminent men of England for nearly twenty
years, and who, in circles where genius, as well as haut ton, had
its shrines, " claimed kindred there, and had his claim allowed."

D'Orsay's celebrity was undisputed as a man of fashion —
a noble-looking, classically-moulded, English-mannered young
Frenchman "of the vicllc cour" — a beau monde gentleman, at
once graceful, dignified, frank, and dcbonnaire, full of life, wit,
humor, and originality — an " exquisite" of the first water in brill
iant circles — an admirable rider, fit " to witch the world" of the
Parks of London "with noble horsemanship;" a keen sports
man, a capital boxer for an amateur, a good swimmer, an excel
lent swordsman, a famous shot, a celebrated cricket-player ; at
one time a great collector of classical rarities, " far gone (like
Horace Walpole in his youth) in medals, lamps, idols, prints,
and all the small commodities of antiquity ;" at another time a
zealous partisan of a great conspirator, and great promoter of
his plans to effect a revolution.

Alfred D'Orsay figured, in his day, in all these characters ;
but, alas ! of what avail to his memory is the celebrity he ob
tained in any of them ?

All the celebrity which his true friends may desire to be
coupled with his name is that which he derived from the ex
ercise of his fine talents as an artist, and of his kindly feelings

VOL. !.— 0

314 NOTICE OF COUNT ALFRED D'ORSAY.

as a man naturally disposed to be benevolent, generous, and
open-hearted.

In Dickens's "Household Words" (No. 176, p. 536) there are
a few kind words spoken of poor D'Orsay, in some allusions
made to the former occupants of " the little stuccoed houses" of
Kensington Gore, contiguous to Lady Blessington's : " At number
5 lived Count D'Orsay, whose name is publicly synonymous
with elegant and graceful accomplishments ; and who, by those
who knew him well, is affectionately remembered and regretted
as a man whose great abilities might have raised him to any
distinction, and whose gentle heart even a world of fashion left
unspoiled."

Mr. Patrnore, in his recent work, " My Friends and Acquaint
ances" (vol. i., p. 230), alluding to one of the chief difficulties
of Count D'Orsay's social position in England, and the anomalies
in the constitution of fashionable society there, says : " And yet
it was in England that Count D'Orsay, while a mere boy, made
the fatal mistake of marrying one beautiful woman, while he
was, without daring to confess it even to himself, madly in love
with another still more beautiful, whom he could not marry —
because, I say, under these circumstances, and discovering his
fatal error when too late, he separated himself from his wife al
most at the church door, he was, during the greatest part of his
social career in England, cut off from the advantages of the more
fastidious portion of high female society by the indignant fiat
of its heads and leaders."

A man in his twenty-seventh year can hardly be designated
as a mere boy, nor can the circumstance of his separation from
his wife " almost at the church door" be accounted for in any
manner that will appear excusable to the friends of the young
deserted wife, or the fastidious portion of high female society in
England or elsewhere. This marriage was not only a great
misfortune for those who were married, but a great crime on the
part of those who promoted that marriage, and were consenting
to it.

If any comment must be made on this unfortunate union and
its results, might it not be better to summon courage, and, taking

NOTICE OF COUNT ALFRED D'ORSAY. 315

counsel of Montesquieu, to speak out a solemn truth on an oc
casion that can be best served by its enumeration ?

" Religion, good or bad, is the only test we have for the probity
of men"

There is no dependence to be placed in probity or purity of
life without the protection of religion. Human honor is inade
quate to the security of either. There is an amount of indi
gence at which honor, long resisting, will stagger in the end ;
there is a degree of temptation at which honor will suffer vice
to approach her in the mask of innocent freedom, and will dally
with it till infamy itself becomes familiar to her bosom. But
respectable folks, who figure in good society, solemn-faced sa
ges and literary celebrities, will say it is false : honor is alone
sufficient to regulate the minds of educated men, and to prevent
all disorders in society. It is to libel honor to say that it is suf
ficiently strong to bind respectable members without religion,
and that the latter is only needful for the happiness of people
in another world. Nevertheless, there is not one of those peo
ple who does not know in his own breast that such is not the
case — that in his own character and conduct the assertion does
not hold good, and in very few of those of the individuals with
whom he is best acquainted. There is no dependence on any
man's probity or any woman's virtue whose reliance is not
placed in religion.

Nothing more can be said with profit or advantage on this
subject, except that it is deeply to be lamented this marriage
was forced on Count D'Orsay, and that he consented to contract
a marriage with a young lady for whom he entertained no sen
timents of love or kindness.

It would be very unjust to D'Orsay, with all his errors, to
place him in the same category with his profligate countryman
De Grammont, and still more unjust to set him down on the
same list with the Dukes of Buckingham, Wharton, and (Queens-
berry, and the more modern antiquated libertine of exalted rank
and vast possessions, the Marquis of Hertford.

In one very essential matter he differed from most of them.
Though practically not living in the world of fashion under the

316 iNOTiCE OF COUiNT ALFRED D'ORSAY.

restraints of religion, all the influences of an early recollection
of its sacred character were not lost, and these, which, in the
midst of a wild and thoughtless career, sufficed at least to show
that all respect for that character had not been wholly aban
doned, and that they were still faintly perceptible in some of the
noble qualities possessed by him, at the close of life were strong
ly manifested, and made the mode of his departure from it the
best, the only consolation taken that could be given to a sister
eminently good and spiritually minded.

The close of that career, and the ministrations on it, form a
strong contrast with the termination of a life of an English duke,
and the attendance on a death-bed, of which Sir N. Wraxall,
in his Memoirs, has left a remarkable description.

"When Q/ueensberry lay dying, in December, 1810, his bed
was covered with billets and letters to the number of at least
seventy, mostly, indeed, addressed to him by females of every
description and of every rank, from duchesses down to ladies
of easiest virtue. Unable, from his attenuated state, to open or
peruse them, he ordered them, as they arrived, to be laid on his
bed, where they remained, the seals unbroken, till he expired."

If the sordid homage paid to the wealth of the expiring deb
auchee had been offered only by the ladies of easiest virtue,
there might be little to be surprised at ; but what is to be said
or thought of the ladies of reputed virtue, of exalted rank, who
manifested so much sympathy for the old libertine of enormous
wealth, and still more enormous wickedness ?

Society suffers little from charity toward its erring members,
but morality suffers a great deal when habitual vice and dis
soluteness of life of persons in high places or regal station, which
never has been abandoned or repented of, find sycophants and
slaves to pander to them, and people, forgetful of the dignity of
their position or their pursuits, to lend their services to palliate
them.

Count Alfred D'Orsay died in Paris, the Hh of August, 1852,
in his fifty-second year, having survived the Countess of Blcss-
ington three years and two months. His remains were laid in
the same sepulchral chamber in which hers were deposited.

PRELIMINARY NOTICE, ETC. 317

The monument erected to her memory at Chambourcy had been
hardly finished, when it became the resting-place of all that is
left of the accomplished, highly-gifted, generous-hearted Alfred
D'Orsay ;

" Pulvis et umbra, nomen, nihil."

CHAPTER XIV.

PRELIMINARY NOTICE OF THE CORRESPONDENCE OF LADY
BLESSIXGTON.

THERE is one thing well worthy of observation, and that must
strike every person who looks over the extensive correspondence
of Lady Blessington, namely, the implicit trust that was put in
her judgment and integrity by the most eminent men of her
time in politics, literature, and art. Statesmen of great renown
for wisdom, judges and grave lawyers, men of letters and sci
ence devoted to philosophical pursuits, seem to have had entire
confidence in her honor, discretion, and common sense and kind
ness of heart. They communicated with her with the utmost
freedom, and evidently with a firm conviction that their con
fidence would never be abused. In their letters it is plainly to
be seen how fully sensible they were the only account that con
fidence would be ever turned to by Lady Blessington would be
to promote peace where strife had sprung up ; to make people
who had been estranged think less unkindly of one another ; and
those who were at variance* disposed to consider that the state
of nature in their several pursuits was not a state of war.

Lady Blessingtoii's correspondents were not of one class, or
country, or profession, or pursuit ; they were of all orders of
high intelligence, of all lands, of all positions ennobled by gen
ius, of every science, art, or walk in literature, or in public life
distinguished for talent, or deserving in her opinion to attain any
distinction in it , and there were to be found among them like
wise persons who had no pretensions to intellectual gifts, or re
markable abilities of any kind, but who possessed amiable qual-
iticT, honorable principles and kindly feelings, bookish people

318 PRELIMINARY NOTICE OF

not pedantic, amateurs of art without the airs of dilettanti, trav
elers more at home in a desert than a drawing-room, who had
seen outlandish places, and could be drawn out a little on the
subject of their peregrinations on rare occasions.

Among the correspondents of her ladyship we find princes
and princesses, authors and authoresses of all lands, rich and
poor, generals and critics, poets and politicians, publishers and
diplomatists, play-actors, novelists, and ministers of state, lord
chancellors and literary ladies, peers of the realm, nabobs of In
dia, natives of Hindostan, hidalgos of Spain of " thirteen grand
fathers," descendants of ancient Irish kings, and gentlemen, in
fine, of no ancestors at all, renowned in literature, art, or science.

The lady who was engaged in this extensive correspondence
could be no ordinary person. It was carried on for a long series
of years with many of the master-spirits, not only of England,
but of the world.

The qualities of rnind and of disposition of this gifted lady,
the influence of that goodness of heart that was diffused over
every act and word of hers, the fascination of her manners, and
all the collateral allurements of her external beauty, could sure
ly be of no common order, that could procure for her not only
the admiration and esteem of passing observation, but such long-
enduring friendship and affectionate regard as we see, by this
correspondence, she enjoyed to the close of life at the hands of
many of the most eminent persons of our age.

There arc many difficulties of an editorial kind to be dealt
with in the present undertaking ; and one of the most serious
that presented itself was that of the arrangement of the corre
spondence.

The natural and usual course would be to introduce the let
ters generally in the order of their dates, and not those of each
correspondent consecutively There was, however, a disadvant
age in such a course as this to be considered, and a very great
difficulty to be surmounted.

Lady Blessington's intercourse with eminent persons distin
guished in literature, art, .science, and politics, and her literary
career, had three phases : one of these was included in the pe-

THE CORRESPONDENCE OF LADY BLESSINGTON. 319

riod between her marriage and her departure for the Continent
— her early London life from 1818 to 1822 ; another was the
period of her Continental tour and sojourn chiefly in Naples —
her Italian life from 1823 to 1829 ; and, lastly, that which in
cludes the period between her return to England, her residence
in Seamore Place, and the break-up of her establishment at
Gore House, from the end of 1831 to the spring of 1849, a few
weeks before her decease in Paris — the period of her second Lon
don career of nearly nineteen years.

Each of these phases in the life of Lady Blessington was dis
tinct from the other, in the composition of the society in which
she moved, in the development of literary tastes, the progress
of intellectual culture, the nature of her literary pursuits, at one
time engaged in solely on account of the delight taken in them,
at another for sake of distinction, and finally with a view to
gain.

Her correspondence partook of the nature of those differences
and distinctions, and the value of it seemed to consist, to a great
extent, in that distinct individualism which belonged to the let
ters, and the style and subjects of them in such numerous in
stances, that to separate and scatter the several letters of each
writer over different portions of the work would have been to
break up the interest taken in the several subjects, and the con
nection between matters frequently referred to in the letters of
the same writers.

The difficulty above referred to, in the way of arrangement
according to dates, was, in fact, insuperable. Literary men and
artists are singularly prone to forgetfulness in regard to dates
and addresses in their correspondence. A vast number of the
letters addressed to Lady Blessington are without date or place
of residence ; a great many have the date of the week specified
but not of the month, and where both are to be found the year
is seldom mentioned. In many cases the dates are determined
by the post-marks, but in many more, where the letters have
been written prior to the general use of envelopes, there is no
clew whatever to the date, and the period can only be approx
imately arrived at by knowledge, of the place where Lady Bless-

320 PRELIMINARY NOTICE OF

ington was residing at the time such letters were received by
her, or derived from matters referred to in them.

For the above-mentioned reasons, and some others which may
readily suggest themselves to the reader, I have, as a general
rule, inserted the letters of the different correspondents consec
utively, as they appear to have been addressed by Lady Bless-
in gton.

In the notices prefixed to the letters, I have endeavored to
brino- before the readers of these volumes the correspondents
and friends of Lady Blessington, and the acquaintances espe
cially of her ladyship during her sojourn in Naples and K^ome,
in a way to make them recognizable, and to recall the particular
traits of character which belonged to them.*

In the letters of Lady Blessington, it will be in vain to seek
for those excellencies in the art of epistolary correspondence,
graces of style and composition, vivacity, esprit, and epigram
matic power of expression which arc to be found in the corre
spondence of Madame de Sevigne, and more or less in that of the
Marquise du Deffand, Madame Geoffrin, our own Lady Mary
"Wortley Montague, or Madame D'Arblay.

But, in one respect, the letters of Lady Blessington were not
inferior to those of any of the above-mentioned letter-writing
celebrities, namely, the manifestation in her letters of kindly
feelings, as ardently expressed, as generously and unselfishly
entertained. The best actions of mankind arc the worst recorded
facts of history and biography. Of the many generous acts of
Lady Blessington, we find few records in her correspondence,
but we shall iind in her letters evidences enough (undesignedly
furnished by her) of that natural and unaffected goodness of
heart, which manifested itself in an affectionate interest in Lhe
welfare of her friends, an enduring, unselfish regard, that was
never influenced by any change in their position or accident of

* The want of a slight thread of descriptive illustration of the position, charac
ter, or peculiarities of persons whose correspondence is introduced into the biog
raphies of well-known persons has been often felt and complained of. A brief
notice of tVic principal productions or characteristics, traits of originality or re
markable qualities of many of those whose letters form a part of this correspond
ence, will be found prefixed to the letters of several of the writers.

THE CORRESPONDENCE OF LADY BLESSINGTON. 32]

fortune. It mattered not to her an iota, in her estimation of
their worth and merits, however altered for the worse might be
the condition of friends she had known long and well, however
depressed by adverse circumstances, and fallen on that account
in the opinion of the world, they were never forsaken by her —
the feelings of Lady Blessington toward them were unaffected
by any change in their fortunes. There was no " feigning of
generosity" in the uniform kindness of this steadfast friendship
— the same in adversity as in prosperity — no affectation of benev
olence in this manifestation of genial feelings — these were part
and parcel of a noble disposition naturally turned to goodness.

It has been truly observed that, " in addressing even a com
mon acquaintance (in a letter), there is a kindlier feeling, a cour
tesy, which tends to endear and to familiarize ; but in address
ing a friend, there is evidence that one never loves one's friends
half so well as when writing to them ! Every act of kindness,
every amiable quality, rushes on the memory and the imagina
tion, softened by the real absence, and heightened by an ideal
presence.

" This constant sense of the presence of her correspondent is the
greatest charm of that queen of letter-writers, Madame de Sevigne.
AYe feel throughout that every thought, every word, is addressed
to one individual, and to one only — the daughter, the idolized
daughter, who filled that warm heart."*

Lady Blessington did not write to her friends for effect — she
reserved that object for her conversation. She sat down in her
dressing-room to talk on paper naturally and familiarly with
good-natured familiar friends, as if it was a relief to her to give
expression unreservedly to thoughts en deshabille, and to feelings
for which no domino of affectation was required. She wrote to
those friends carelessly and affectionately, as if she felt that
every trine would interest, every slight allusion would be under
stood, every sprightly fancy would amuse, every word of kind
ness would be appreciated, and every expression of pain or
sorrow, or reference to her own cares or anxieties, would meet
with sympathy.

* New Monthly Magazine, vol. ii., 1821, p. 143.
0 2

322 *SIR WILLIAM GELL.

No attempt at fine writing is to be met with in the letters of
Lady Blessington. There was too much heart in her epistolary
correspondence, and too little disposition to enter into discussions
in letters to her friends on any topics but those which related
to her own immediate affairs, and which concerned the interests
or happiness of others, to give a literary character to her corre
spondence in general that would interest the public in it.

For this reason, out of a vast number of the letters, or rather
notes of Lady Blessington, none have been selected for publica
tion except those which came within the limits of the last-named
category. The number of her ladyship's letters is not large, but
the few that are presented to the public will be found to give a
favorable opinion of the writer's sound common sense, clear con
ception, kindly feelings, and amiable disposition.

I have rejected a vast number of letters of mere compliment
on ordinary subjects of correspondence between friends, inquiries
after health, references to private matters, intimations of intend
ed visits, and apologies for long silence, non-appearance at par
ties, &c.

Sir William Jones, in one of his lectures, said, " For what I
have produced I claim only your indulgence : it is for what T
have suppressed that I am entitled to your thanks."

CHAPTEIl XV.

SIR WILLIAM GELL.

THE name of Gell will recall to many minds very pleasing
reminiscences of Rome and Naples — his small classic house at
Rome, fitted for a scholar's home, that might have served for
the abode of Petrarch, with its adornments far from costly, but
its arrangements elaborately tasteful, with its pleasant gardens
and trellised walks ; his place of residence, too, at Naples in the
latter years of his life — its picturesque locality, his drawing-
room, library, studio, museum, all combined in one very rnod-
erately-sized apartment, with such a store of rarities, old folios
in vellurn, modern topography, and illustrated travels richly

SIR WILLIAM GELL. 323

bound, caricatures, charts, maps, and drawings ; the light guitar,
which he had recourse to so often, in moments of torture, and
for whose sweet remedial influences he had "thrown physic to
the dogs" — not, however, to the well-bred animals of the canine
species who had the entree of his salon, and the privilege of his
best chairs and sofas — so many models, too, of ancient structures,
so many curious things in so small a space,

" that still folks wondered Gell
Had one small room could hold so much so well."

In 1814, when her royal highness, the Princess of Wales, left
England, and proceeded to Milan, via Brunswick, her establish
ment consisted of Lady Charlotte Lindsay and Lady Elizabeth
Forbes, maids of honor ; Mr. St. Leger, Sir William Gell, and
the Honorable Keppel Craven, chamberlains ; Captain Hesse,
equerry, and Dr. Holland, physician. Mr. St. Leger remained
at Brunswick. Shortly after her royal higness's arrival in Mi
lan, Bartholomew Bergami was taken into her service as cou
rier and valet. The princess and her suite set out for Rome and
Naples the latter end of October, and arrived in the latter city
on the 8th of November, 1814. King Joachim Murat was then
sovereign of Naples. Her royal highness gave a fancy ball to
his Neapolitan majesty, in which she appeared in three charac
ters ; first as a Neapolitan peasant, secondly as " The Genius
of History," and thirdly as a Turkish peasant, in costumes by
no means cumbersome, though not quite in accordance with the
notions of some persons of her English suite. The princess re
mained in Naples till March, 1815. She then took her depart
ure for Rome, Genoa, and Milan, leaving four of her suite, Lady
E. Forbes, Sir W. Gell, Mr. Craven, and Captain Hesse, in Naples.
Lady Charlotte Lindsay had previously left her royal highness
at Leghorn. At Genoa she was joined by Lady Charlotte Camp
bell, who remained with her only two or three months. After
her return from Palestine, Sir William Gell accompanied her
from Naples to Rome, and continued with her there in attend
ance upon her as chamberlain while she remained in Rome.

The following year he was again about three months in at
tendance on hor at Fvaseati and RufinelM ; and again, on the

324 SIR WILLIAM GELL.

occasion of her last visit to Rome, he attended her for some
days.

In his evidence on the trial before the House of Lords, Sir
"William swore that it was on account of an attack of gout he
had quitted her royal highness's service; and, "notwithstand
ing the opportunities he had of observing the conduct of the
queen and Bergami toward each other, never saw any impro
priety pass between them upon any occasion."

Nevertheless, the opinion of Sir William of his royal mis
tress's habits, modes, and manners was not more favorable than
those of Lord Malmesbury, of which he has left a curious rec
ord in his diary.

In 1815 and 1816, we find Gell, in his letters, under various
signatures — "Blue Beard," "Adonis," " Anacharsis," "Gellius
(Aulus)," and while still retaining the title, and occasionally fill
ing the office, of chamberlain to the Princess of Wales, indulg
ing in his sarcastic propensities — playing the part of a male gos
sip, conveying little bits of scandal in humorous passages, and
making fun of his royal mistress for the sport of the fair Philis
tines who had once been maids of honor and friends of her roy
al highness.

But even at that time Sir William was a martyr to gout and
rheumatism. In December, 1816, he wrote from Bologna that
he was then reduced to the necessity of confining himself to his
fireside ; but, in giving the account of his ailments, he could not
help having a fling at his royal lady's orthography :

" To a person of my romantic disposition, rcduit by di dizctte
of legs and now of arms to the fireside, it is a great comfort to
have escaped from the land of wine, houses, and carts, and
wooden shoes, arid neckless children (France), and to find one's
self once more in Italy, and to be able io leave rny painful leg
or arm for a moment out of bed without finding it frostbitten."*

Sir W. (Jell and the Honorable Keppel Craven are mentioned
in Moore's diary of August, 1820, as being "on the way from
Naples to England as witnesses for the queen." "Gell still a
coxcomb, but rather amusing — said the Constitution of Naples

* Diarv and Times of George the Fourth, vol. iv., p. 12!).

SIR WILLIAM GELL. 335

came in a gig (corricolo) — told some ludicrous things about the
Duchess of Devonshire's sway at Rome : her passion for Gon-
salvo, her admiration for the purity of the Roman government."
(Memoirs, vol. iii., p. 137.) Moore's compendious opinion of Gell
as " a coxcomb, rather amusing" if relied on, would give not only
a very unfavorable, but a very incorrect notion of his character
and his acquirements. He was a man of much erudition and
artistic talents, and of great humor. Sir William Gell's literary
tastes were chiefly devoted to antiquarian researches.

For the last twenty years, Naples was his head-quarters.
There he was universally known and respected, and terminated
his earthly career.

Sir William Gell was a man of very amiable character, ex
tremely amusing and lively, fond of the society of young people,
with much singularity of mind, and originality of character,
manners, and ideas.

His indolent easiness of temper had something in it of a phil
osophical calmness of an Epicurean character. The common
objects of men's ambition to him were not worth the trouble
of the pursuit. He was at once indifferent, apathetic, and un-
impassioned in the society of men struggling for wealth, glory,
or exalted dignities. He smiled serenely at the inordinate
trouble they gave themselves, at all their great cares for little
ends, at all the great weaknesses of little men of large desires.
And yet this pococurante gentleman had many difficulties to en
counter to secure for himself " les douceurs d'une vie privee
et oisive," and many little harmless vanities and weaknesses
of his own to make him singular and eccentric, of which, how
ever, he was entirely unconscious.

All his tastes were of a literary and artistic turn, and all were
of a refined, scholar-like, and some of them rather of a Sybaritic
kind. Like Sir William Temple, "he loved painting, and mu
sic, and statuary, and gardening," and embellishing buildings.
Health, and ease, and fine weather were the constituents of his
happiness: Temple wrote, "Le seul homme que j'envie dans
le monde c'est Milord Falconbridge, que son embassade va con-
duire dans un si beau climat, ou il va goutcr tous les charmes

326 SIR WILLIAM CELL.

attaches aux delicates et spirituelles conversations d'ltalie. II
trouvera les jours et les esprits egalemens purs et brillants."

Though a martyr to gout, Sir "William Gell's natural gayety
and good humor were little affected by his natural sufferings ;
and with the most profound knowledge and information he com
bined the utmost simplicity and playfulness.

Some of his topographical books were illustrated by himself,
as, for instance, his Pompeii, Greece, and other descriptive pro
ductions of an antiquarian kind — works acknowledged to be the
best of their several sorts and classes.

In June, 1834, referring to a conversation at Lady Blessing-
ton's, Willis, in his "Pencilings by the Way," 3d edition, Lon
don, 1849, refers to some valuable notices of Sir William Gcll,
illustrative of an interesting portion of the latter part of Sir
Walter Scott's career :

"She (Lady B.) had received from Sir William Of ell, at Na
ples, the manuscript of a volume upon the last days of Sir Wal
ter Scott. It was a melancholy chronicle of weakened intellect
and ruined health, and the book was suppressed ; but there were
two or three circumstances narrated in its pages which were
interesting. Soon after his arrival at Naples, Sir AY alter went
with his physician and one or two friends to the great museum.
It happened that on the same day a large collection of students
and Italian literati were assembled in one of the rooms to dis
cuss some newly-discovered manuscripts. It was soon known
that the ' Wizard of the North' was there, and a deputation was
sent immediately to request him to honor them by presiding at
their session. At this time Scott was a wreck, with a memory
that retained nothing for a moment, and limbs almost as help
less as an infant's. He was dragging about among the relics
of Pompeii, taking no interest in any thing lie saw, when their
request was made known to him through his physician. ' No,
no,' said he, ' I know nothing of their lingo. Tell them I am
not well enough to come.' He loitered on, and in about half an
hour after he turned to Dr. II. arid said, 'Who was that you said
wanted to see me ?' The doctor explained. ' I'll go,' said he ;
'they shall see mo, if they wish it;' and, against the advice of

SIR WILLIAM GELL. 327

his friends, who feared it would be too much for his strength, he
mounted the staircase, and made his appearance at the door.
A burst of enthusiastic cheers welcomed him on the threshold ;
and forming in two lines, many of them on their knees, they
seized his hands as he passed, kissed them, thanked him in
their passionate language for the delight with which he had fill
ed the world, and placed him in the chair with the most fervent
expressions of gratitude for his condescension. The discussion
went on , but, not understanding a syllable of their language,
Scott was soon wearied, and his friends, observing it, pleaded
the state of his health as an apology, and he rose to take his
leave. These enthusiastic children of the South crowded once
more around him, and, with exclamations of affection and even
tears, kissed his hands once more, assisted his tottering steps,
and sent after him a confused murmur of blessings as the door
closed on his retiring form."

The scene is described by Sir W. Gell as one of the most
affecting he had ever witnessed

His career of authorship commenced so early as 1804, when
he published " The Topography of Troy," folio. Subsequently
appeared "The Geography and Antiquities of Ithaca," 4to, 1808,
"The Itinerary of Greece" — "Travels in the Morea" — "The
Topography of Rome" — and, finally, his "Pompeiana," the most
interesting and extensively known of all his works.

Sir William resided in Italy since 1820 ; occasionally at Rome,
but chiefly at his beautifully situated and elegantly arranged
villa in Naples, in the society of his erudite friend, Sir William
Drummond, and that of his old friend and amiable companion,
the Hon. Keppel Craven. After the death of Sir William Drum
mond at Ilome in 1828, his friendship with Craven appeared
to have become more closely cemented than ever, and it went
on increasing in strength to the period of his death.

Gell's notions of authorship were of a very aristocratic nature.
All his works were brought out on so large and extensive a scale
as to be out of the reach of that class of readers for whom his
topographical and antiquarian researches would have been espe
cially useful — for travelers in those countries whose remains

328 SIR WILLIAM CELL.

were described by him. But it was the misfortune of this en
lightened and accomplished man to be an aristocrat in all things,
and to mar his attainments by hankering after great people —
"patricians born to greatness," or parvenus having "greatness
thrust upon them" — thrust on " good society," and admitted
there par droit de richesses ou lieu do naissance.

Sir William Gell, it must be admitted, frittered away his time
and talents for upward of twenty years on the fashionable frib
bles of the little coteries of English traveling aristocracy that
customarily wintered in Rome, and passed the spring or autumn
in Naples or its vicinity

Every one delighted in his society ; in his conversation and
correspondence he was equally amusing and agreeable.

"When. Sir William Gell died, Lady Blessington might have
truly said, " J'ai perdu en lui mon rneilleur causeur."

There is an admirable sketch of Gell in a letter of James
Ramsay, Esq., a resident merchant of Naples, an old and valued
friend of mine, addressed to the Hon. Richard Kcppel Craven in
the spring of 1836, soon after the death of Sir William Gell, urg
ing 011 Mr. Craven the task of composing a biographical sketch
of his deceased friend, and eventually signifying his intention
of writing such a memoir :

" I frequently urged," says Mr. Ramsay, " our inestimable
friend to compose his biographical memoirs ; to bequeath to
posterity the 'personal narrative' of a career in which the pur
suits of science were so happily blended with the lighter occu
pations and brilliant attractions [distractions] of society. 1 said
it would be a great pity if the rich fund of observation and anec
dote which he had accumulated should be lost with him, and
that it might be screened from public view until the writer
should be ' removed beyond the reach of criticism or of ridicule.'
He sometimes appeared to be half inclined to adopt my sugges
tion, and owned that he possessed materials sufficiently ' piquant,'
if he should determine to employ them. Will you forgive me
for insinuating that the task which he failed, or rather neglected
to accomplish, seems naturally and gracefully, when time shall
have in some degree moderated the more poignant emotions of

SIR WILLIAM GELL 329

regret, to devolve upon you ? upon you, his juvenile companion,
the friend and fellow-traveler of raaturer years, the depositary
of his inmost sentiments, and probably of many of a series of
letters in which events and opinions have been faithfully re
corded.

" Though enjoying Sir William's acquaintance and intimacy
during a considerable period, I can not presume to hope that I
could furnish any important contributions toward such an under
taking, otherwise I should be most ready to co-operate with those
who are so much better qualified. His correspondents would,
I dare say, willingly communicate his letters, or extracts from
them, and the names of these correspondents are doubtless known
to you.

" There is a peculiar charm in the unguarded effusions of emi
nent persons, when, casting off the artificial garb with which
rank or other adventitious circumstances may have invested
them, they paint their natural character and feelings without
any other reserve or restraint than those which discretion pre
scribes.

'• Hume and Gibbon have left us interesting, though very dif
ferent memorials of this description, and the familiar letters of
Munro, of Collingwood, of Mackintosh, and of such as resemble
them, will be fondly cherished when their public achievements
are perused with historical indifference. But I beg pardon for
detaining you with remarks so obvious.

" If, on the one hand, it is to be regretted that Sir William
did not finish his novel of 'Julia di Gonzaga,' it may, on the
other, be permitted to doubt whether or how far such a work
would have added to his literary fame. Of his powers of imagi
nation and invention I had 110 adequate opportunity of judging;
but, though the novel might have contained some lively scenes,
some striking descriptions, some sparkling dialogue, I should be
inclined to question — yet by no means conclusively — whether a
profound knowledge of the human heart, of the intricate mazes
arid complicated workings of passion, and feeling, and sentiment,
were among his distinguishing attributes.

"He had not made a study of composition, and, in the confu-

330 SIR WILLIAM GELL.

sion of foreign languages, the purity of his own had still become
considerably impaired. These observations, dictated by an af
fectionate and jealous attachment to his memory, are hazarded
with diffidence, as they are with deference submitted to your
taste and judgment.

" I am aware that the scope of the memoir would be chiefly
limited to private circulation ; and at a time when the novel
and the romance usurp, if not the honors, at least the emoluments
of literature, the noble-minded author would seek and find his
reward in another disinterested offering on the altar of friend
ship. I am, &c. J. R."

A SKETCH OF THE CHARACTER OF SIR WILLIAM GELL, F,Y
JAMES RAMSAY, ESQ.

"The merits of Sir William Gell as an author, chiefly 011 sub
jects of anti cjuity and topography, are already sufficiently known
and appreciated by the public. The fruits of much patient
research, of ingenious conjecture, of great personal activity and
industry, with admirable graphic illustrations, his works are
valuable helps to the student, and an accurate guide for the
traveler. In attempting the more difficult task of delineating
his general and private character, as deduced from an inter
course of many years, if I am conscious of any bias, it must be
in favor of one writh whom I have spent so many delightful
hours, unalloyed by the recollection of even a passing cloud ;
for to me he was uniformly kind and attentive. Yet I will
endeavor to be impartial, though at the hazard of incurring the
reproach of being rather severe.

" Sir William started in life with the advantages of a hand
some person — of a fine, open, placid countenance — of a prepos
sessing manner — of a remote ancestry, and of an extensive con
nection with the best society, lie traveled at a period when
travelers were rare, and thus early acquired a distinction which
he continued to maintain. Possessing general, though superfi
cial information, both literary and scientific, including some ac
quaintance with the Oriental languages and hieroglyphics, he
sketched beautifully, had a taste for and some knowledge of mu-

SIR WILLIAM GELL. 33^

sic, and excelled as an easy, off-hand, unaffected correspondent ;
indifferent, indeed insensible, to the graces of composition, yet
universally courted for a style of naivete ' beyond the reach of art.'
Although, however, led by the course of his studies into classical
inquiry and reference, the character of a profound scholar will not
be assigned to him, notwithstanding his general reading ; he had
little taste for literature, and never seemed to feel the beauties of
poetry. I should say, indeed, that, in other respects, his taste —
meaning by this term a delicate and just perception of the beau
tiful — was far from being refined, and that that defect was ap
parent in all, even his personal decorations, by a preference for
gay, gaudy colors, striking contrasts, and meretricious ornament.

" To depth of thought Sir William would have no just pre
tensions. He rarely made a general reflection or observation;
all his conclusions were particular. On many of the important
questions by which the world is now agitated, he had no steady,
fixed opinions ; he had neither the boldness to form, nor the
courage to avow his sentiments, which were very liable to be
temporarily influenced by the last speaker, the last writer.

" In his political principles he was decidedly aristocratical,
with a strong predilection for ' rank, fortune, and fashion,' our
besetting sin !

" But it is in a companionable, sociable point of view that the
memory of Sir "William Gell will be most fondly cherished, his
loss most deeply lamented by his surviving friends and acquaint
ances ; for there he shone without a rival, with a charm pecul
iarly his own. To a considerable share of wit and humor — to
a natural tact and penetration, improved by a long intercourse
with the great world, to the habits and bearing of a ' high-bred
gentleman,' Sir William added an unceasing flow of lively, play
ful language, sparkling dialogue, and brilliant repartee upon ev
ery topic which formed the subject of conversation, and this, his
great forte both in company and tete-a-tete, was endless. Plac
ing people of all classes on a footing of easy familiarity, and thus
unlocking their confidence, he drew from them a perpetual sup
ply of materials for his own combination — ' toujours variees
toujours renaissantes' — his house became the resort of all ranks,

332 SIR WILLIAM GELL

ages, and sexes, and his mornings one continued levee. The
equanimity of his temper under the pressure of bodily infirmity,
often of acute suffering, enhanced the value of a cheerful, hu
mane, benevolent, charitable disposition, and even the shafts of
sarcasm and of ridicule, in which he occasionally indulged, left no
sting, because it was felt that they were the offspring of no
malignant spirit. "With all his resources, however, Sir William
languished in solitude ; he breathed only in the atmosphere of
society ; even his literary and other occupations were sometimes
carried on in company, while conversing with those around him.
" He was fond of being looked up to as a patron and protector,
and somewhat jealous of the ascendency which he thus sought
to preserve.

"It has been said that, as in thinking, so in feeling, he was a
stranger to any great depth ; and certainly he seldom betrayed
much emotion, or even expressed much interest in the fate of
others. It is a remark of his friend, Lady Blessington, in one
of her books, that ' persons the most remarkable for general
kindness are those who have the least feeling.'

" Emulous of fame, he aspired after notoriety and display ;
and the latter was sometimes evinced by introducing subjects
with which his auditors were very imperfectly conversant, in
order, as it seemed, that he might excite their surprise and com
mand their applause.

" Tn an argument he was easily vanquished ; in a forward
remark as easily checked ; by superior powers painfully eclipsed.
Sir William liked to be the presiding genius. In his acquaint
ances, visitors, guests, with a few exceptions, he preferred va
riety, novelty ; and when these had lost the power of pleasing,
he willingly resigned them, ' like the last month's magazine,'
for others more attractive.

" Hence he was deemed by some people rather selfish, not
quite sincere, and not sufficiently mindful of past favors ; but
in endeavoring to exhibit the various traits of a distinguished
character, we ought always to bear in mind that they include
many from which no human being is entirely exempt.

" Amid a boundless acquaintance, it may be questioned wheth-

LETTERS OF SIR WILLIAM GELL. 333

er Sir William Gell had many really and truly attached friends .
his affections were infinitely subdivided, frittered away ; but
he was a kind and indulgent master.

" He seemed to be a great favorite with the fair sex. They
gathered — flocked around him ; they confided in — they confessed
to — they consulted him as a superior being ! Yet all the youth,
beauty, grace, accomplishments, whose homage he was constant
ly receiving, did rarely, in my hearing, call forth an admiring,
never one enthusiastic, one impassioned sentiment. They might
be * well-looking,' * well-mannered,' ' a pleasing person,' that
was all. I often asked him who was the most beautiful woman
he remembered to have met with ? He replied that ' he thought
he should say Lady Blessington.' Still, his behavior, attentions
to, correspondence with ladies, were excellent, polite, and kind.
In estimating character, we judge, partly from what people do
and say, and, which frequently escapes them, from what they do
not do and say !

" In these peculiarities and other foibles we have, alas ! only
to recognize the imperfections from which none are free ; but
the verdict of an immense majority will decide in favor of the
amiability, the charms of the character of Sir William Gell, and
will confess he has left a blank which it will be difficult, if pos
sible, to supply."

%* There are several busts of Sir William Gell, but none of
them a good likeness. With the exception of a less aquiline
nose, he bore a strong resemblance to the statue, said to be of
Aristides, in the museum of Naples.

CHAPTER XVI.

LETTERS OF SIR WILLIAM GELL TO LADY BLESSINGTOX.*

'' Naples.

" Mr DEAR LADY BLESSINGTON, — A most horrid affair has taken place a't
Psestum, Mr. Hunt and his wife having been murdered by robbers. Three

* The Blessingtons arrived in Naples in July, 1823. They established them
selves at the Villa Belvidere, on the Vomero, about the 23d of the same month.

334 LETTERS OF SIR WILLIAM CELL.

parties were at Psestum — Mrs. Benzon and daughter, the Hunts, and a party
of officers from ' The Revenge.' Mrs. Benzon was returning to Naples, and
about two miles from Paestum met four robbers, who with threats demanded
and took all their money. They seem not to have ill treated them otherwise.
Mrs. Benzon gave the alarm at Salerno, and sent gens d'armcs. About a
quarter of an hour after came Mr. and Mrs. Hunt by the same place. They
tore off the vetturino and the servant from the box, and were ill treating the ser
vant for having no more money while Mr. Hunt was descending from the car
riage. Mr. Hunt seems to have remonstrated in violent terms at this, and one
of the thieves said he would shoot him if he continued. Mr. Hunt seems to
have continued, and to have said he dared not shoot him : this the enraged
thief did with two balls, both of which passed through his body, and he fell
from the step. One of the balls took a side slant, and went through the body
and lungs of Mrs. Hunt also. The thieves, seeing what they had done, im
mediately fled without any booty. The husband and wife, the first almost in
sensible, were carried back to Prestum. The husband died at half past seven
o'clock of the same day. The act took place about one. Mrs. Hunt was car
ried to Mr. Belelli's, a decent house, and seemed for some time better, and the
officers, sending Mr. Thompson here for assistance, remained with her. Dr.
Watson went last night, about twelve o'clock, to see if he could do any good.
It is almost certain Mrs. Hunt can not live. I have written this in a great
hurry, having merely had time to give you an outline, but a correct one, of the
facts, which I heard from Mr. Thompson himself. I have sent certain docu
ments to Lord Blessington about Lady Falkiner, which the judge wishes you
to see, because he says you arc the person who knows most about the busi
ness. With kindest regards to the count and the ' Lady Julia,'* believe me
most truly yours, dear Lady Blessington, W. CELL.

"VA sua Eccellcnza la Contessa di Blessington, Villa Bclvidcre, Vomero."

" Naples.

" Do your excellencies dine at home to-day? If you do, I purpose an as
cent to the Belvidere. You arc in danger of being rivaled with the arch-
bishopt by Mrs. Beaumont and her three daughters, for whom he has con
ceived a passion. Most truly yours, WILLIAM GELL."

" Naples.

"When I had read Lord Byron, which I found very interesting, but most
particularly the revengeful poem, which must have been written after some
conversation with you about his wife, I found myself rather forlorn ; but, rec
ollecting my charge of the letters, I thought for some time what I should do

They remained there till March, 1825, and about the 25th of the latter month re
moved to the Villa Gallo, where they remained till February, 1826, when they
left Naples for Rome.— R. R. M.

* The Lady Julia was Lady Blessington's sister, Miss Mary Anne Power. —
R- R. M. f The venerable Archbishop of Tarento.— R. R. M.

LETTERS OF SIR WILLIAM GELL. 335

with them, so I took the liberty of going into the drawing-room, and, after
some consideration, I put them carefully into a large red portfolio on the
count's table, with a red ribbon, where pray go and take them, having made
my apology for taking such a liberty with him. I am sorry Miss Power is
angry with me, but I have nothing on my conscience. No Casorano came.
I kiss your feet, and am ever yours, W. GELL."

" Naples.

" The devil has upset his inkstand in the clouds, and I think it therefore
better to postpone my visit, as you were kind enough to say I might, if the
world went upside down. Dr. Doratt, having engaged me to write, sent also
yesterday to say he had forgotten his engagement to the Hamiltons, brute
that he is for his pains. I will come when the weather changes, and, not to
disturb you, will send the same morning to ask if it suits you. Kind com
pliments to your party. Perhaps you have got another Museum or other
book. WILLIAM GELL."

" Naples.

" I lost no time in consulting the doctor, all the way down the hill, and as
far as he goes there would be no difficulty, except his engagement with Sir
William Drummond. He said, at the same time, what a fool he should look
like if Sir William D. died in ten years, and he found himself without a shil
ling. It was resolved, therefore, to talk to Sir William, and the consequence
was, a declaration that five years was to him the same as his whole life ; that
he would give the other hundred a year which I stated to be necessary for the
present, and that he had left Dr. Watson £200 and some other things.*

" He said at the same time, that if Dr. Watson wished it, he was at liberty,
and such a resolution should have no effect in changing his good intentions
toward him.

" However, of course, seeing that Sir William listened to the reason ot the
case (which he always does when properly explained), the doctor would be
very unwilling to give him any pain on the subject.

" You see you have been the cause of good, so let us console ourselves, and
pray believe me, most truly and affectionately, W. GELL."

" Naples.

" According to your orders, I have told Mr. Craven that he has to appoint
an early day to go to the Bclvidere, and he will come on Wednesday.

" That being fixed, I have to inform your ladyship that the weather seem
ingly consenting to relent, Dr. Watson and I have an idea of a trip to Pom
peii to-morrow, and having had a sort of half agreement with your amiable
party, I think perhaps you may not be disinclined to the excursion.

* Dr. Watson, the medical attendant of Sir W. Drummond, one of the most em
inent linguists of Europe. — R. R. M.

336 LETTERS OF SIR WILLIAM CELL.

" Suppose we say we will meet there at or about twelve, and bring our din
ners in our pockets, and dine either in the quarters at the great table, or any
where else about three or four, for later it may be cold, but about three will
be very agreeable, the place being sunny and sheltered. You can dine either
in the villa at the end of the tombs, in the Triclinium of the tombs, or on that
of the Actseon, in the centre of the town, or in the Forum, which last will be
sunny and warm, just as you please. If you accede to these propositions, let
me know what dish or dishes I shall bring in my pocket for the public good.

" Would you be so good as to ask Count D'Orsay to let me have my cam
era lucida, as without that I am not fitted out for my labors.

" WILLIAM GELL.

" I think I myself will begin at the soldiers' quarters, and so ramble by de
grees toward the Forum and the new excavations there. Thus we shall meet
without doubt or difficulty, even if you begin from the tombs, which is much
the most striking, and consequently the best beginning.

"A. S. E. Madamigclla M. A. P. a casa del Conti di Blessington, Palazzo Negroni."

"Naples.

" If I waited longer I might get a better piece of paper, but I have 110 pa
tience, so this is just to let you know, madam, that your carnival pranks have
all been watched, and that I have observed your tricks for the last five days.

"Tremble, then, when you see the handwriting of your jealous

''LAWFUL."

"Rome, April 5th, 1824.

" I really did arrive at Rome on the 12th of last month, having quitted your
city on the 8th, and having experienced on the way every possible misfortune
except being overturned or carried into the mountains. In short, I know
nothing to equal my journey except the ninety-nine misfortunes of Pulici-
nella in a Neapolitan puppet-show. I set out without my cloak in an open
carriage ; mv only hope of getting warmer at St. A gat a. was destroyed bv an
English family, who had got possession of the only chimney. I had a dread
ful headache, which, by-the-by, recollecting to have lost at your house by
eating an orange, I tried again with almost immediate effect. Next morning
one of my horses fell ill at the moment of being put to the carriage, and has
continued so ever since, .so that I have had to buy another, which is so very
(what they call) good that it is nearly as useless as the other, so that I never
go out without risking my neck. When, at length, I got to Rome in a storm
of sleet, I found a bill of one hundred and fifty dollars against me for protect
ing useless lemon-trees against the frost of the winter, which, added to the
expense of the new horse and the old one, have ever since caused the horrors
of a jail to interpose themselves between me and every enjoyment, and so
much for the ugly side of the question.

" In other respects I am in very good health and spirits, and go out every
day to dinners, of which the chief givers have hitherto been Lady Mary Deer-

LETTERS OF SIR WILLIAM GELL. 337

hurst, Mr. Morritt, of Rokeby, Lord Dudley, Lord Kinnaird, Torlonia, Mrs.
Beaumont and Co., and others, besides the same company, Mr. Irving or Ir
vine, Mr. and Lady Selina Robinson, Lord C. Fitzroy, Lord Ashley, Captain
Southill, His Highness the Prince of Mecklenburgh, Dr. Wilson, a most
agreeable Scot, fresh from Egypt, Jerusalem, and all the East, and very talk
ative, Mr. Hare, Mr. Dodwell, and your humble servant, to which lately \vo
add Sir William Drummond and Dr. Quin. Do not, therefore, imagine that
in dinners or dinner company we are at all behind you at Naples, though all
the strangers are supposed to have left this place, the Lord rest their souls.
Since my arrival we have had nothing but misfortunes ; first, the sad affair
of Miss Bathurst,* and, secondly, the death of the Duchess of Devonshire.
Miss Bathurst's death really made every body unhappy, having been one of
the principal delights of the society here while living, and really beloved by
every body. Lord Aylmer does not appear to be recovered yet as to spirits,
and it seems that the idea still recurs to him every instant : at first his ex
ertions in the water, and the agitation he underwent, seemed to threaten his
senses for some days.

"Mr. Mills has been of the greatest use to him, having at length succeed
ed in persuading him to talk about the fatal business till he acquired by de
grees a little calmness and fortitude. Mills eats his breakfast as usual, and
desires your ladyship may be informed of the circumstance, adding, he will
give you a breakfast at the Vigna Palatina, as he has done to Lord and Lady
Aylmer almost every morning for the last fortnight. They go away in a day
or two to meet the unhappy Mr. Bathurst at Genoa.

" The poor duchess had every possible consolation at her death. By the
most lucky chance, the duke and Mrs. Ellis were here, and Dr. Quin, coming
here for a frolic, sat up with her eight nights, so as to have hurt his own
health. He describes her as dying in the most calm and amiable manner pos
sible, and the physicians having permitted her to see her friends when they
had no longer any hope, the duke, Mr. Ellis, the Due de Laval, and Mr. Ar-
taud went to see her, to take leave of her, as well as Dr. Nott or Knott, who
had a conversation with her very satisfactory to him on matters of religion,
showing that she did not die a Catholic, and would have taken the sacrament,
but the doctors would not permit it on account of her weakness. Dr. Quin
had been desired by the Duke of Devonshire to be present at the embalming
of the body, which is to go by land to England. It was discovered that an
ossification of the arteries had commenced, so that in a short time she would
probably have died from that cause, had not an accidental cold, neglected by
herself for too long a period, thus destroyed her. And now I will give you
no more of the miseries of this life. I hope you have at length had better
weather. Mr. Morritt says that for two months the thermometer has been
seven degrees higher in London than Rome this winter. What will Lord

* The lamentable death of Miss Bathurst, who was drowned in the Tiber in
February, 1824.— R. R. M.
VOL. I.— P

338 LETTERS OF SIR WILLIAM GELL.

Blessing-ton say to an Italian climate after this] but when I recollect that I
have been able to breakfast in my loggia, in a hot sun every morning, except,
perhaps, ten during the winter, I shall not be easily persuaded that we are not
better off. I found two letters from Lady Westmoreland, who has already
got at Malta £300 worth of things prepared for her voyage to and in Egypt,
where she will probably never go. I have answered her with my own pro
jects, but do not build much on the negotiation.

" In the mean time, they say the Pacha of Egypt has declared himself in
dependent ; and others state that he is going in person to attack the Morea,
which last is a folly he never will be guilty of, as the government of Constan
tinople would then catch him in a trap. If he quits the country, adieu to
traveling there, and so says Mr. Wilkinson at Cairo, from whom I have an
other letter, saying the pasha has now 30.000 men armed and disciplined in
the European manner, with which certainly he might bid defiance to the Porte,
if the opinion or religion of the multitude be sufficiently changed for them to
resist an imperial order to lay down their arms before the standard of the
Prophet.

" Lord Dudley will set out for Naples the first fine day. I don't know
whether Dr. Watson has had any success with the volume of Dr. Ilichardson
lent to Sir William Drummond ; his illness and his usual carelessness seem
to have been our great enemies. I don't know what to do about it, except
10 pray that as Lord Blessington had the goodness to send for a copy for me.
lie will possess himself of that, and leave the oilier at Naples. I am so much
ashamed of my neighbor's conduct, that I never will be responsible for him
again. Alas ! he is so accustomed to losing and destroying books, that he
feels no shame himself on the occasion, and swears, though he conversed
frequently about the book, he never saw it in his life. Indeed, he never does
read a book except for the first live minutes, lie seems in very good health
and spirits, and his trip to Rome has already done him good. I am quite
sorry you all hate this place so much, for I find myself better amused in gen
eral than at Naples, where there is nothing but eternal Toledo, Chiaja, and San
Carlo. There can be no doubt that this is preferable for society ; but for me,
I think one great motive of preference is a large and shady garden, where I
can hobble among and under my own trees of my own planting. I have al
ready been on one, and I intend to <>;o on several excursions to different parts
of the country, where I make observations for the making of a map of the
neighborhood. Every body seems inclined to go on these excursions, so my
researches appear as if they would become the fashion in the shape of morn
ing rides and drives, with cold dinners brought to the point of rendezvous. I
fear you see little or nothing of Craven, who seemed to me, when I left him,
as if he was established for life, tacked to his mamma's apron, without benefit,
of clergy.

" I hope you will let me hear how you all go on, and what you are all do
ing, and that you have given up that tour in Sicily, where you will have more

LETTERS OF SIR WILLIAM GELL. 339

than the inconvenience of Egypt, with very little of the entertainment or profit.
If the Egyptian journeys can not be contrived, I have a sort of faint idea of a
tour to Como, and the northern Italian lakes. I kiss your hand and feet ; and
with the kindest regards to the count and the great Mathews, believe me,
my dear Lady Blessington, your affectionate and faithful

" WILLIAM GELL."

CHAPTER XVII.

LETTERS OF SIR WILLIAM GELL TO LADY BLESSINGTON.

"Rome, 4th July, 1824.

" 1 was going on in much too flourishing a state of health and jack-ass
riding when I received an unlucky letter from Dr. Watson, congratulating
me on the same, and singing the praises of Dr. Neiker, who he says has
cured him of his infamous headache.

" This was a sort of triumph old Nick could not allow, so the same day,
having invited Dodwell to dine under the trees in my garden in order to con
cert an expedition to Soracte, &c., which would have taken up three days,
after which I meant immediately to throw myself at your feet, I was obliged
to be carried to my post, and have never, since the 27th of June, made a single
pace on my own feet, nor till this evening in any other manner. In the mean
time I have really very little pain, though I have been so bewildered that I
could not even sit up for two days — a great inconvenience, as it deprives one
of so many amusements. At present I am better, or the scene is shifting,
which it makes no scruple of doing between both feet, both knees, and a
dozen or two of the elbows and fingers ; and thus you have had a long and
dull account of my enemy and myself.

'' I have been, since I wrote last to your ladyship, doing nothing but living
in the country houses of the Romans. We had a week at Tivoli, at the Villa
Santa Croce, after we returned from Bracciano. We next borrowed the palace
of the Duke of Tagerolo of that ilk, and thought that though the thieves were
already strong in the field, a population of four or five thousand souls, with
the ducal palace in the centre, would render the neighborhood safer for us ;
and indeed so we found it, having the good fortune to assify all over the
country in all directions unassailed. Lady Mary Deerhurst, who is the lady
of the castle on all these excursions, carries the whole household, children,
tutor, governess, dogs, and the rest of the royal familv, so that we made some
show even in the largest of these mansions, that at Zagarolo being really a
magnificent pile, and the place where the pope of those days sent the learned
men to consult on the best Catholic edition of the Bible, since published, and
called the Vulgate. Here we were joined for some days by Lords Kinnaird
and Dudley, and Mr. Hare, to say nothing of Mrs. Dalton, and two beaux,
Mr. Bacon and Mr. Stevenson, whom Lady Mary found out one day bv chance

340 LETTERS OF SIR WILLIAM GELL.

as she was riding through Valmontone, the whole party and I believe three
carriages having only mistaken their way a little, and traveled through the
whole territory of the thieves by Monte Casino, thinking they were going by
the Terracina road, much as the lovely Bess Caldwell went halfway to Vienna
in her way from Brussels to Paris.

" When we had seen every thing in that country we returned again to
Rome, whence we fitted out several little expeditions for the day, and discov
ered several cities with good old Greek-looking walls of large blocks, which
the wags and antiquaries had no idea of.

" Probably the lost cities taken by Romulus and the Tar quins will all be
found in time, if we all live and are well, which, as you very wisely observe,
is doubtful.

" I shall only give you one more of our tours in search of Cures, the ancient
city of the Sabines, whence came Mr. Smith's cousin, King Tatius, and all the
Quirites to Rome. We found the place, though there are but few remains,
near the modern village and river Correse, a charming trout stream, running
through the most beautiful country we had ever seen. Between the high
range of Monte Gennaro (Lucretili according to Mathews) and the Tiber is
a country perhaps eight miles in width, interspersed with villages at short
distances, perched on the most romantic spots, perfectly defended by nature,
but beautifully picturesque, with the remains of the ancient fortifications of
the baronial houses. We had the palace of Prince Sierra at Monte Libretti,
one of those villages, and though we had it not enough to ourselves to be very
comfortable, we managed to make our excursions with effect. Nothing can
give you an idea of the infinite beauty of the country, which, generally speak
ing, seems an eternal forest of oaks and spina Christi ; yet every now and
then, and just when you wish it, opening into a little cultivation, either in
corn, flax, or gardens. Every half mile, in crossing the direction of the great
mountains which bound the whole, you have a descent by a precipice into a
deep woody dell, with its little stream, sometimes with a patch of cultivation,
and forcing its way through the rocks ; but I will say no more, lest you should
think the gout is got into my head. How sorry you will all have been for
Lord Byron. We have a little medal here of him, but it might as well have
been of Caesar, to my eye. They should have sent to Count D'Orsay for a
profile. It is really a sad loss to literature, and an immense deficit of interest
from the Greek cause. I am afraid the said cause is not very flourishing, as
we begin to receive letters from ruined families of the Greeks, saying that,
having lost almost all they had by the revolution, and no law existing, they
fled with the little remainder, and now solicit your excellency's support. In
the mean time, Lady Westmoreland, who had been nearly famished during the
late scarcity of 'cases,' is quite set up again by Mr. Battler's case, and the
death of Lord Byron before he had time to reform ; and with these two she is
now exercising her eloquence, first at Venice, and since at Vicenza, and other
towns in the north of Italy, where Mr. Craven met her. Craven writes from

LETTERS OF SIR WILLIAM GELL. 34^

the Lake of Wallensee on the 16th, and Munich the 17th of June. He finds
no attempt at pease, or even salad. At Wallensee several patches of snow
down to the water's edge. The elder flowers not come out. The apple-trees
yet in early bloom, and a sharp frost every evening. Two days before, he was
eating over-ripe cherries in Italy.

" I wish I could send you a good account of the robbers, but nothing has
been heard of them lately, except that they are living like fifty prodigal sons
at Montellano on the product of the last ransom. When that is spent, of
course they will send for more ; and if I get well by the time they begin to
infest the road, I must really take the liberty to escape by sea, for to be beaten
to death because I can not walk into the mountains, or, being taken on an ass,
to have to pay the greater part of my fortune for a ransom, would neither of
them be advisable cases. I hope, at least, the earl now likes the Belvidere
better than in the winter, when the window curtains sometimes insisted on
becoming part of the dinner company at the table. Speaking of a gun, do
any of you want a groom, named Crispin, who has been all over this country
with Lady Mary, but which Lady Mary is now gone to Leghorn with only an
English groom for her riding-horses, and, in consequence, the man is left in
my hands to dispose of 1 Now for a description. Crispin is of middle stature,
slim, active, intelligent, and much in appearance like a real slang English

groom ; in feature like a baddish caricature of K C put into an oven

till his hair was singed. Born at Viterbo, aged about thirty, and I suspect
concerned in divers serenades, sung in a high key, and not remarkable for
precision, which I sometimes hear in the street. If any of the family of Bel
videre want for themselves, or can dispose to their neighbors of a person
so eminently qualified, he is now to be had cheap. I hope you will be able
to read my writing, as it has only just occurred to me that I am obliged to
sit in a posture which I can not do myself, with my feet in the air. I have
no news from England. A friend wrote to me in the greatest haste to help

him to a peerage, that of Darcy of .* I gave him his answer, and told

him Darcy of Navan was what he had a claim to, and no other of that name.
Yet I have had no answer, so conclude he has died of it, as it is now above
three months ago. They say the Aberdeens are coming here, instigated, if
true, I suppose, by Captain Gordon. We have long been without a single
milord of any sort or kind, but I believe there yet remain many of a tribe of
both sexes, who are in want of money to go away the next day to England
with a very pitiful story, which they take round every winter, without ever
quitting for an instant the Holy City.

" We have yet had not a hint on the subject of the learned 'Faustus.' I
hope and trust she has been exorcised long ago, and does not mean to be ill
any more, but to be a nice little neat sort of a tidy discreet old sort of a body
as usual, when fate allows me to come clumping like a parrot into her pres-

* Word illegible.— R. R. M.

342

LETTERS OF SIR WILLIAM GELL.

ence. I kiss the hems of your garments. I salute the whole company, and
am most affectionately and faithfully, W. G."

" Rome, October 2d, 1824.

" I am sitting in my garden, under the shade of my own vines and figs, my
dear Lady Blessington, where I have been looking at the people gathering
the grapes, which are to produce six barrels of what I suspect will prove very
bad wine ; and all this sounds very well till I tell you that I am positively sit
ting in a wheelbarrow, which I found the only means of conveying my crazy
person into the garden. Don't laugh. Miss Power. The fact is, that all those
feelings which I had for two days at your house most kindly contrived to re
solve themselves into a fit of the gout on the very morning of my departure,
so that I got into the carriage in torture, and was obliged to be borne out by
two porters at Capua, since which time till to-day I have never put a foot to
the ground. I considered, at Capua, that if I let Sir W. Drummond turn back,
as he wanted to do, it was most probable he would fall ill before I was well,
and he would be thus disappointed of his tour, so I was carried again to the
coach, and, after a drive of thirty-five miles to San Germano with the same
horses, through a most beautiful country, and not very bad road, we found
ourselves compelled at sunset to mount two wretched asses, and climb by a
steep zigzag road for an hour and a half to the monastery of Monte Casino.
All this, with a fit of the gout, was certainly rather an undertaking, but I was
carried by some very good people of the jackasses up five hundred steps and
forty corridors, and laid upon a bed, where the holy fathers, the very nicest of
Thingumbcrrys in the world, were so kind to me that I could have been no
where better. They gave us a fine supper in the next room, as I found by
the number of good plates they brought, and tried to persuade me to eat. Sir
William Drummond seemed quite pleased with them, and talked till a late
hour, and they, on their parts, seemed equally delighted with him. The next
morning, Tuesday, they took him to see their library, which is very good, and
their archivio, or room of manuscripts ; and finding I was not in a movable
state, they were so kind as to send five or six of their most curious MSS. to
me. Among them was the MS. Virgil, which has all the lines filled up (by
the Lord knows who) which Yirgil had left unfinished in his hurry to die.
We remained there till Saturday, when I descended the mountain in a sedan
chair, and we renewed our journey. On Friday, the fathers insisted on my
seeing their wonders in the said sedan ; and I went into the church to hear
the celebrated organ, which, in the shattered state of my nerves, only served
to make me cry. The church is really the most beautiful thing ever seen.
It is entirely incrusted with the finest marbles, and neither stone nor mortar
appears in any part of it. The pilasters are inlaid in beautiful arabesques of
verd-antique, porphyry, and serpentino ; and the whole so clean, so new, and
«o polished, that, till I had seen it, I had no idea of the effect which might be
produced by colored marbles. The floor is also equally beautiful and simple,

LETTERS OF SIR WILLIAM GELL. 343

and the ceiling gilt and painted in the gayest and most elegant manner. Un
der the dome is the abbot's throne, and in the chancel the stalls are of carved
oak, of the most elaborate and astonishing workmanship. When the first
effect of the organ had passed off, I found it was really more like an orchestra
than any thing I had ever heard, and the organist was never tired of playing,
and of setting it off to the best advantage. These people are really learned
monks, and we found, out of ten, three or four who were good scholars, and
had even got as far as the Hebrew. In former times they had great revenues,
and more than one hundred residents. They have now 16,000 ducats, or
about £3000 per annum. Nothing could exceed their kindness to us, and we
did our best to repay it, by showing them the sextant, camera lucida, and ali
we possessed, which might be new to them in science or literature. Quitting
these good souls, we began our adventures, intending to go to Rome by the
nearest way. We set out, therefore, with a vetturino for Ceprano, the first
town in the Roman States. We found, near St. Gcrmano, the remains of an
amphitheatre ; and we spun along a fine new road, past Aquino to below
ilocca Secca, for two hours or more, with the greatest success, and there met
with the River Melfa, almost dry, but at the bottom of a deep, rocky dell, over
which a bridge is building — to get over the stream ; it was therefore neces
sary to diverge to the right, and in about twenty minutes we regained the
good road, only to quit it forever on the left, and wander for the rest of the
day in the wilds and vineyards, without roads or any fixed direction. It ap
pears that, if ever five miles of the road be made, there will be no difficulty in
reaching Ceprano in a direct line. As it is, however, the fine road rnns to
the right to Sara, and we were condemned to hunt our fortune in a large coach
and four, and at last to make nine or ten miles out of the five. There were
few absolute dangers, particularly as the weather had been dry, but it began
to rain in the afternoon, and we passed a sort of devil's bridge between two
precipices of slippery earth, which was not quite agreeable. We reached at
length the little village of Isolatta, and soon after got into the Roman States,
•where we found a road, and a very good new bridge over the Liris, by which
we entered the little town of Ceprano. Here we lodged at the house of a
surgeon, to whom our friends of Monte Casino had recommended us, and we
were treated as well as, under a very humble roof, we could expect. In the
morning of Sunday we set out again, and, passing by a very decent but tire
some road, eternally mounting and descending, but in a well-cultivated and
pretty country, through Frosinone, Ferentino, and Anagni, cities of Latium,
with great remains of antiquity, we arrived at night at Valmontane, having
gone forty-four miles with the same horses from Ceprano. As we came late,
though the inn is very large, it was occupied, and, after a good deal of waiting
and trouble, we got two corn-chambers, with damp bods to sleep in. Sir Will
iam could not sleep, but in the morning we proceeded to the Holy City, twenty-
five miles, and arrived at two o'clock, having performed our journey through
the whole of the thieves' country without any sinister accident. Lord Kin-

344

LETTERS OF SIR WILLIAM GELL.

naird we saw on our arrival, and Mr. Mills came the same day. Mr. Millin-
gen was also here, and is gone on to Paris. Lady Mary Deerhurst came yes
terday, and I expect her in my garden every minute. Craven arrives to-mor
row, and the margravine is hourly expected : a most wonderful coincidence
of travelers. My companion voted me too crazy to accompany him to Albano,
where he thinks he is going to ride about on the mountain, so I am sent to
grass for a few days at my own casino on the Quirinal. I expect in less
than a week to be summoned to Albano, and so to return to Naples, when, as
I already begin to hobble, I expect to be quite well — in my way, and where I
hope to hear of you on my arrival ; for I will not let you write, as I am most
uncertain in my motions. I think I am the only person who sets out at the
beginning of a fit of the gout on a party of pleasure, but I think it has suc
ceeded, as I should not have been well any where ; and I can say that, except
starting, the pain of the gout seems to have very much worn itself out, or to
have been conquered by Dr. Neiker. You will know poor Miss Bathurst's
body was found the day we arrived. A flood seems to have removed the sand
bank which had covered it, near the scene of the accident. Having been al
ways under water, the flesh had become like spermaceti, and the hat, veil, &c.,
were perfect ; even the mouth was recognizable. I beg my kindest regards
to the earl, count, Mousey, Mathews, and all your party. W. GELL."

"Naples (1824).

" ' The doughty Douglass' could not come because he was going away so
soon, but will wait upon you in St. James's Square.

" I intend to come to-day, and will bring a specimen of the Royal Letters,
and Mademoiselle Demont's journal, if you will be at home.* Your slave,

"W. GELL."

* On the queen's trial in 1820, Louisa Demont was examined. Said she was
a native of Switzerland, of the Pays dc Vaud, a Protestant; engaged with her
royal highness as first fe.imnc dc cJtambrc at Lausanne. Her testimony was the
most damaging to the princess of all the evidence of the crown witnesses. Sep
tember 1st, 1820, on her cross-examination, said she had been in England thirteen
months, and could not speak English. Was discharged by the princess in 1817
for saying something which was, in fact, untrue. Did not go into other service,
because in Switzerland she had funds of her own sufficient to live upon.

A letter of hers, after her departure, was read to her sister, another servant of
the princess, named Marictte, dated 8th Feb., 1818, in which this passage occurs :
" You can not think, Marictte, what a noise my little journal lias made." In this
letter she says she spoke in her journal in the highest terms of the princess. The
whole evidence of this witness showed her to be a very unscrupulous, intriguing,
cunning, clever person, not deficient in education. Lord Brougham said of her,
'' This woman was the most perfect specimen, the most finished model of the com
plete waiting-maid."— R. R. M.

LETTERS OF SIR WILLIAM GELL. 345

" Naples.

" I have been thinking of your learning Italian, and think at last I could
teach you in two hours to read ; and as you are professor of Pausanias al
ready, would willingly have a set-to at a little bit of it with you ; there can be
no doubt that no modern language is equal to it, and when you have it, Latin,
Spanish, and Portuguese (to read) will be easy. I shall therefore bring Pau
sanias on Sunday and hope you will not have company who will prevent my
lesson. With kindest regards to the count and Lady Julia,

"WILLIAM GELL."

In a letter of Sir William Gell's, addressed to Lady Blessing-
ton, 1824, at the Villa Belvidere, the following observations on
mythological emblems, ornaments, instruments, and vesture are
inserted, in the hand-writing, I think, of Mr. Craven, probably
transmitted in compliance with the wishes of Lady Blessington,
communicated to Gell :

" Certain wreaths were peculiarly given as rewards to the winners in par
ticular games. Wild olive was the recompense in the Olympic games, laurel
in the Pythian, parsley in the Nemean, and pine twigs in the Isthmic games.
The diadem or fillet, called Credemnon, was among the gods reserved for Ju
piter, Neptune, Apollo, and Bacchus, and among men it was regarded as the
peculiar mark of royalty. The radiated crown, formed of long sharp spikes,
emblematic of the sun, and represented as issuing from the head of that deity,
was first worn only on the tiaras of the Armenian and Parthian kings, and
afterward became adopted by the Greek sovereigns of Egypt and of Syria.
A wreath of olive-branches was worn by ordinary men at the birth of a son,
and a garland of flowers at weddings, on festivals, and at feasts ; in order
that the scent might be more fully enjoyed, the wreath was often worn round
the neck. As a symbol of power, gods, sovereigns, and heralds carried the
sceptre, or hasta, terminated by the representation of some animal or flower
instead of a point. As the emblem of their mission, Mercury and all messen
gers bore the caduceus twined round the serpent.

" The car of each Grecian deity was drawn by some peculiar kind of animal
or bird : that of Juno by peacocks, of Apollo by griflins, of Diana by stags, of
Venus by swans or turtle-doves, of Mercury by rams, of Minerva by owls, of
Cybele by lions, of Bacchus by panthers, of Neptune by sea-horses. The Gor
gon's head, with its round chaps, wide mouth, and tongue drawn out, emble
matic of the full moon, was regarded as an amulet against incantations and
spells, and is for that reason found not only on the formidable aegis of Jupiter
and of Minerva, as well as on cinerary urns and in tombs, but on Grecian
shields and breast-plates, at the pole-ends of chariots, and in the most conspic
uous parts of every other instrument of defense or protection to the living or
the dead. The prows of Greek galleys or ships of war were ornamented with

P2

346 LETTERS OF SIR WILLIAM GELL.

the cheniscus, frequently formed like the head and neck of an aquatic bird, and
the poop with the aplustrum, shaped like a sort of honeysuckle. Two large
eyes were generally represented near the prow, as if to make the vessel like
a fish, to see its way through the waves. In religious processions of the
Greeks, masks were used as well as in their theatres, and in order to repre
sent the attendants of the god who was worshiped. Thus, in Bacchanalian
processions (the endless subjects of ancient bas-reliefs and paintings), the
fauns, satyrs, and other monstrous beings are only human individuals mask
ed ; and in initiations and mysteries, the winged genii are in the same predic
ament ; and the deception must have been the greater, as the ancient masks
were made to cover the whole head. Of these masks, which, together with
all else that belonged to the theatre, were consecrated to Bacchus, there was
an infinite variety. Some represented abstract feelings or characters, such
as joy, grief, laughter, dignity, vulgarity, masked in the comic, tragic, and
satyric masks, others offered portraits of real individuals, living or dead. The
thyrsus, so frequently introduced, was only a spear, of which the point was
stuck in a pine cone, or wound round with ivy leaves. Afterward, to render
the blows given with it during drunkenness harmless, it was made of the reed
called ferula.

"Of musical instruments, the phorminx, or large lyre, was dedicated to
Apollo, and was played upon with an ivory instrument called plectrum. It
was usually fastened to a belt hung across the shoulder, and sometimes sus
pended from the wrist of the left hand, while played upon with the right. The
cithara, or smaller lyre, was dedicated to Mercury, and when the body was
formed of tortoise-shell, and the arms composed of a goat's horns, it was call
ed chelys. This was played upon by the fingers. The barbitos was a much
longer instrument, and emitted a graver sound. The trigonium, or triangle,
an instrument borrowed by the Greeks from Eastern nations, much resem
bled the harp. Besides these instruments with chords, the Greeks had several
wind instruments, principally the double flute and the syrinx, or Pan's flute.
To these may be added a certain instrument for producing noise, the tympanon,
or tambourine, chiefly used in the festival of Bacchus and of Cybele : the crem-
bala, or cymbals, formed of metal cups, and the crolals, or castanets, formed
of wood, shaped like shells.

"In attire, the chlamys, a short cloak, was a garment of gods and heroes,
fastened over the shoulder or upon the chest. Such is the mantle of the Apollo
Belvidere, and many of the statues of Mercury. Wreaths of oak leaves were
consecrated to Jupiter, laurel leaves to Apollo, ivy and vine to Bacchus, pop
lar to Hercules, wheat ears to Ceres, gold or myrtle to Venus, fir twigs to the
fauns and sylvans, and reeds to the river gods.

"The pcplum was a sort of mantle worn by the Greeks; the tunic a loose
robe. Venus is the only one of the goddesses that is represented without a
peplum, and Diana is generally represented with hers furled, and drawn tight
over the shoulders and round the waist, forming a girdle, with the end* fall-

LETTERS OF SIR WILLIAM GELL. 347

ing down in front. The peplum had small metal points attached to its cor
ners, in order to make them hang more straight and even."

" Rome, 23d March, 1825.

" I shall never have the pleasure of ' whipping the family all round most
severely' again, if it be true that poor old Parr is really dead, as I see it an
nounced in the newspapers. I am always for those living longest who con
trive to be content with the world, and endeavor to make the best of it ; and
he was really one of those. I conclude he was by no means young, but it is
a pity that two such scholars as he and Porson should have departed without
having left something of more consequence behind them to perpetuate their
fame. I continued to mend in my hobbling as I approached the Holy City,
and for some days after my arrival ; but, as fate would have it, all my friends
lived up one hundred and fifty stairs, and I ruined myself by my premature
activity so effectually, that, though without pain, I have been forced to be car
ried by twTo people, one of whom is the great Pasquale, till three days ago.
It would be natural that I should have therefore seen very few persons, but
the good Lady Manvers, who protects me most especially, is so popular, that,
seated in her wheeling chair, I have seen almost all the good company at Rome,
Lady Bute excepted, who threatens me with a visit in my garden to-day, as
she does not attempt stairs. I have no doubt Dr. Neiker could cure her of
that also. We have Sir George Talbot, who gives great and good dinfters as
I am told, for I was not well enough to go when invited. We have Lady
Davy, who lives in the right horn of the moon, in the Valdombrino palace, up
five hundred steps, who gives agreeable little dinners neither great nor good.
We have Anna Maria Starke, who gives parties and misereres, if you are fond
of music ; Lady George Seymour, who has a very pretty daughter, and a very
nice girl ; Mr. Rose, the man of Greek inscriptions ; a rich Mr. Ferguson,
with one or two others, last from Persepoiis and Bagdat ; a Baron Uxscull
or Oxscull, from Finland, last from Egypt and Syria, with a collection of draw
ings ; William Burrell, with a new waistcoat and neck-handkerchief of real
Cashmere (or do you spell it Cashemire) shawl for every day in the year, and
a gold toilet ; Mr. Dodwell, who has just cut open a mummy in public, and
found it to be a lady of fashion three thousand years old, and his pretty wife,
who has a party every Sunday, and I dine with them to remain at it ; Mrs.
Singleton, nee Upton, and Miss Upton, unmarried ; Mr. and Mrs. Lucas, very
nice people, from Ireland ; Dr. and Mrs. and Miss Hall, the Dean of Durham,
from Naples, who seem good people, and a variety of others, fathers and moth
ers unknown. A little while ago, every body was engaged in companies, like
Anglo-Mexican miners, to make excavations in secret ; as nobody got any
good by these speculations, the taste seems at present all gone into the mise
rere line, and there really are arrived many pilgrims, and even prelates, who
do penance, much as I think I could do it myself, by arriving here in a coach-
and-four. and under their oil-cloth dress and cockle-shells are clothed in real

348 LETTERS OF SIR WILLIAM GELL.

cloth of gold and fine linen. I believe the Duke of Lucca is also a pilgrim,
and, in short, from what I understand, the plot begins to thicken, and the des
ert of Rome to be peopled. I can not help thinking it would entertain you
all exceedingly to make a trip for a week, particularly as holy years do not
occur every day of one's life, and we shall end with an illumination and fire
works of the most brilliant kind.

" I wish I could say I would lodge, clothe, and feed you if you would come ;
but for amusement, the people, the quaintriess of every thing, and the air of
general decadence, are, after the bustle of Naples, things to ponder upon, and
could not fail to strike you at the time, and to prove a source of recollections
and reflections afterward, not to mention the queer things you would pick up
for the adventures in your new romance. I wish you would engage me in
that to-be-celebrated work. Have you read the ' Travelers,' a book with some
such name, with anecdotes of all the robberies, real or supposed, in the way
between Rome and Naples 1 Have you got ' the Inheritance,' by the author
of ' Marriage 1' It is excellent, and very interesting. Think of poor Colonel

S hanging himself, and the shocking affair of Lord Shaftesbury's son at

Eton. The world is gone crazy. Lady Mary Deerhurst I see often, and she
will come to Naples in May. She wants to send her son to school in En
gland. Our spring is very backward, but nevertheless I find my garden, which
is full of evergreens, in considerable beauty. When the weather is warmer
I shall begin my geographic excursions with Lady Mary and Messrs. Graham
and Dodwell. We purpose going up Mount Soracte among other things, and
to hire all the diligence, and go in it to Civita Vecchia, and thence to Corneto
or Tarquinium. You will most likely think us all very crazy, but as Lady
Charlotte Campbell said, if it be not right, it is at least very agreeable. Lord
Kinnaird is by no means well, and it is supposed he must quit Rome. I hope
Mesdames Lucrezia and Letizia continue to be the ornaments of their profes
sion, and to draw the great coach with success. I beg to be most kindly re
membered to my lord and ' Lady Julia.' Pray tell the count his particular
friend Dr. Wilson has sent Lady Mary also some oranges, so he must not
think the protection exclusive. I don't hear whether he called her ' Mary' in
his letter, or added her title. I kiss your hands. WTILLIAM GELL."

" Drummond has given his word of honor to close his gates to the abbot,*
and told Craven and Scarfe to announce it to the world. Captain Scarfe was
a witness, and Craven says, quite eloquent, and without compliments.

" There docs not appear to be any svmpathy for the abbot at present any

where. Reilly seems a sort of helper, and S in the worst scrape as to

th